A new world
by Annasharpex
Summary: 10 years ago a plague spread through out the world turning people to monsters. There were few survivors. Clary is one of the few. Alone in a new world Clary has to make do with the scavanges of food she can find and the occasional kill of a zombie. Then she meets Jace and his group who are searching for a better place. Is there really a utopia out there? Can the group be trusted?
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: hey! im kind of new to this whole writin thin so bare with me._

The cold wall sends images of rotten corpses into my brain as its stench fills my noise. There is no noise other than the shuffling of a walker and the breaths that hitch in my throat. My fingers curl around the knife in my pocket. Any minute that thing will turn the corner, and I will have to kill it; before it kills me. I can only hope it doesn't smell me. The walker blood that slathers my body from head to toe should disguise my humanity from it but I can't be sure- I just mustn't make too much noise. Noise= bad where the walkers are concerned; they swarm to it like flies to road kill.

I've never been much for brute strength, stealth and cunning are the tactics that have taught me to survive on my own for all these months. Speed is also an asset but I rarely run away from a fight; I never give up. That doesn't mean that I'm stupid: if I'm stuck in a situation that demands me too flee (say 50 walkers to the one of me) I will- but I will probably hunt them down in groups and kill them then. I am smarter than they are; I am faster than they are; they will not get me.

The walkers' shuffles stop and I strain to hear any indication of where it might be. The hole in the piece of wood that I am hiding behind reveals nothing of its whereabouts, so I can deduce that it hasn't passed me and is still on my right. I shift my weight a little and peer out from my hiding place. The walking corpse at the end of the hallway is looking straight at me- oh bugger. With a strangled cry that barely leaves its decrepit lips, it launches its self at me. Even running full pelt it is still slow but this particular walker used to be a fully grown man and is double the size of me. Its hair has all fallen out and the yellowing skin on its scalp hangs in strips as if it had torn at himself, trying to destroy the monster it had become. The ghost of clothes hangs loosely in bloodied clumps upon its decaying frame. I could tell that it had once been human ( obviously) -but the way it moved suggests that of an insect: the scurries and shuffles mimic that of a clumsy spider.

Calculating my next moves, I can tell that the only way to defeat the vile thing is to use its own great weight against it. So, as it charges at me, I charge at it. A look of confusion crosses its face and it falters for a fatal second. Before the thing can get a bite at me, I step out the way and stick my blade out sideways. Because of the momentum caused by its sprint towards me, the thing cannot slow down and runs into my outstretched knife, cutting itself in half. I smile as i take another dagger from the halter and stab the walker in the temple. I look at the monster crumble as I sigh disappointedly and say: "that was not as fun as I thought it would be." Turning on my heels I leave the dead behind.

Sun beams leak through a shattered window and I stop for a second to watch the fragments of dust dance in the illuminating light. What would happen if I just stayed here? Trapped in the sunlight forever- peaceful and alone. The thought of peace almost makes me want to cry, but I do not allow myself that luxury. This building is not clear yet- there are walkers to kill before I can even start to think about peace.

People will tell you that it is impossible to survive an apocalypse, that children definitely cannot, that going out is a death wish. People are wrong. New York is a massive concrete jungle; canyons of broken glass and rusting steel, skeletal giants chocked by vines, rot and corrosion. I am old enough to remember what it looked like before; how it stood tall and mighty, skyscrapers so tall they seemed to challenge the gods. Now the mighty buildings look diseased, hollow and perilously close to collapse. The city is falling apart. It has been for almost 10 years now, but you can't think about that. No use worrying about what you can't change; no one can turn back time.

What _I_ was worried about, more than anything, was avoiding the walkers, not getting bit, and scavenging enough to eat to survive one more day.

Scavenging the ruins was tricky. There used to be massive stores that had rows and rows of food, clothes and all kinds of other things. That was so long ago it almost seems to be a myth, like my whole life before this was a lie. Most of the stores are picked clean nowadays. People stole all the food in the first couple of days of outbreak, in a panic to leave the city. Some people didn't make it out alive, which is why going into supermarkets is a bad idea. They're always more work than their worth.

But the normal residences, the rows of rotting dilapidated houses along the crumbling streets were a different story. Because here's something interesting I've learnt about the human race: we like to hoard. The houses were much more likely to have food stashed away in cellars or buried deep in closets. You just have to ferret them out.

The floorboards creak as I ease myself into the third or fourth house. The first and second houses were stripped clean. Their owners had clearly packed their bags and taken everything they had as quickly as possible. In the third house, however, the people had not been so lucky. As soon as I walked in I could smell the dead. There was a suitcase on the floor of the stairs that had clothes crawling out of its open mouth. Whoever had tried to escape hadn't made it very far. Picking through the house I found two walkers in the kitchen. They were easy to dispose of- a quick arrow between the eyes and they shall walk no more. I didn't stay in the kitchen too long before I worked out there was nothing to find. Upstairs seemed promising though so I picked my way through broken glass and abandoned clothing items and up the stairs.

The stench that I had originally figured belonged to the walkers hit me full blow and nearly sent me falling back down the stairs I had climbed. In front of me a bedroom door was open. I pushed past it and into the room. It was average looking, nothing too special about it; nothing apart from the decayed bodies lying side by side on the bed. Despite their body's decay they were clearly a man and a woman. A photograph on the bedside table showed them happy and alive on their wedding day. Tears filled my eyes and I wasn't sure if it was the vile stench or the unfairness of this couples death. Their skeletal hands were woven into one another and the man held a gun in the other. They had been trying to escape, found themselves trapped so ran upstairs and shot themselves. I couldn't decide whether it was noble to die together, on their own terms, or stupid to give up. I left that house as soon as possible.

A two story house surrounded by a ring of trees and nearly warped by ivy, windows broken, porch strangled under vines and weeds. The roof and upper floor have partly fallen in, and faint rays of light filter through the rotten beams. The air is thick with the smell of mould, dust and vegetation, and the house seems to hold its breath as I step inside.

I search the kitchen first. Nothing. A few rusty forks, an empty tin can, a broken mug. All things I'd seen before. In one bedroom the, the closets were empty, the dresser was overturned, a large oval mirror shattered on the floor. The blankets and sheets had been stripped and a suspicious dark blot stained one side of the mattress. I don't thin

k about what it could be.

There is nothing in the other bedrooms either. Just as I am starting to head home I hear a light tapping noise that makes me freeze. I slip my hand into my pocket, grip my knife and slowly turn. Shadows move through the sickly light coming from the living room, and the faint, tapping steps echo just outside the doorway. I grip my knife tighter in my grasp and press myself against the wall. A dark shadow is thrown against the rotting floor as something stands in the doorway. I can hear its breaths.

Just as I am about to spring, the intruder gasps and steps out of the light. He is a boy; just a boy- but that doesn't mean he is not infected. I can hear the shakiness of his breaths and think that perhaps he hasn't seen me; I could just sneak away without having to kill him. I am aware that it is a monster but it embodies a child- after all I've seen and done, I still don't think I can kill a child.

I am starting to creep away when a breaking floorboard crackles, makes its last sigh, and collapses bringing my foot with it. As I've said before: walkers are attracted by noise; not only would the creature below me have heard my squeal, but all the others around.

I try to yank my foot out of the floor but it's wedged between the wood and won't budge. I tell myself not to panic but I can hear the boys shuffling advancing up the stairs, and looking over my shoulder I can see the top of its head. I pull and pull on my leg until my arms ache and my ankle is screaming in pain but it is no use. I am stuck.

The walker ( I am certain it is a walker now) is close enough that I can smell its skin starting to go off. It is newly bitten but far enough in the process for its skin to go grey and its eyes to lose all colour. That was one off the things I thought was strangest about walkers, their eyes having no colour. Not blue or brown or green. In the earliest stages of infection they get red rings around the very edges and it's hard to tell at first but after a while you start to notice that the red grows in colour- starting from a pink and heading to a brilliant blood red. It's as if the red sucks away the colour from the iris for its own selfish needs.

This walker is close enough for me to touch it and with my leg trapped I can't escape or dodge its advances. I throw my knife at the creature and it buries itself in its chest. The walker doesn't even stagger. It just continues it pursued towards me.

"Hey, ugly! The only thing uglier than you is your mum!" a voice calls from the bottom of the staircase. The walker seems to forget about me momentarily which gives me enough time to wrench my knife from its chest. It turns toward the voice which is still taunting it. When it shuffles to the top of the stairs I take my aim and launch the knife at its head. My knife finds its target just as an arrow from the voice hits its temple. With an arrow and a knife buried deep into its skull, the monster crumples and plummets down the stairs.

"Nice shot" the voice calls up to me. With the immediate danger gone I take a minute to evaluate my ankle. It's not broken (thankfully), but it sure as hell hurts like it could be. Trying to move it only buries the piece of wood further into my skin. I need help.

"Help me" I call out.

"You're not injured are you? Did it bite you?" the male voice goes from concerning to angry in a couple of seconds as I realise what he must be thinking. He thinks I got bit and he won't help me.

"My ankle, its stuck in the floorboard" I say, trying to keep my voice even but waves off pain cause it too warble.

I can hear someone coming up the stairs. I turn my head. Only I don't see anything because something has catapulted at full speed into my head. I disintegrate, and fall unconscious.

"You didn't have to smack her quite so hard Alec! She'll never wake up at this rate, which would be an awful shame for her- never to gaze upon the heavenly face of her saviour." Said the boy from the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh shut up Jace, the girl could have been bitten; we needed to knock her out." A cold female voice sharply reply's.

"Isabelle's right. We needed to check and this was the only way. You're the only reason that we didn't just leave her there." Another boy, a different one- who I presume is Alec, agrees with Isabelle.

"You could have just asked" I croak out, still keeping my eyes shut. I hear a chuckle and Alec's muffled voice as he walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning red," Jace talks in a voice like honey and gold. "How's the foot?"

I groan again and tear my eyes open and in the direction of the voice. He was right; it would have been a shame not to see the face of the golden boy. That's what he is, golden. His hair, his skin, his eyes. His black shirt and jeans are the only things that stop me from thinking that he is an angel. That and a scar just above his left eyebrow.

"Where am I?" I ask, looking around at the dark room. From what I can make out, we are in an attic. The roof slopes off in two directions and the beams that hold it in place are strewn with cobwebs and eaten away at by insects and time. It's not a particularly large room but it holds at last 10 beds, all of them smothered with expensive linens.

"Welcome to the infirmary of the storm king boarding school, just a three hour walk outside of New York City, overlooking the majestic Hudson River in the historic town of Cornwall on Hudson."

"You sound like a walking brochure," I mumble.

"Is that anyway to treat the guy who just carried you for three hours?" Jace askes, placing his hand on his hip and throwing his hair back heroically.

"Wait you carried me?" I glance at his arm muscles. "Not bad" I think.

"I am the white knight to your damsel in distress." He bows at me and I giggle (possibly a little hysterically)

I am about to say something when I feel a sudden burst of pain in my ankle. The pain causes me to cry out and my eyes water. Jace comes over to the side of my bed and I know he's asking me if I'm okay but I can't quite muster enough energy to reply to him. After a while he disappears. A short while afterwards a little girl dressed all in white stands at the bottom of my bed. She doesn't say anything; she doesn't move or blink, or even seem to breathe. She just looks at me, and I look back. Then I phase out again and when I regain consciousness I find myself alone.

When I get up and creep over to the door I hear muffled voices. They are quiet but I can just tell what they are saying:

"Valentines not going to be happy; If that girl can't walk were going to have to leave her" says a male voice.

"So what if we leave her? We don't know the girl, we can't trust her. Jace isn't always right you know." The second voice is also male but I remember it from the other day…

"I know we can't trust her but Jace seems to think we can and as long as we keep moving valentine doesn't care. I wouldn't worry; she doesn't seem like much of a threat. She is so little!" the first voice replies. Maybe I can't hear them properly but I think they lower their voices when they mention Valentine. He must be their leader.

"I just don't like her." Alec (the second voice and person who knocked me out) retorts. I am about to open the door when I hear footsteps clicking along the floor. I scramble back to bed just in time for an elegant black haired girl to enter without spotting me.

"Oi, get up," she says, prodding me "Valentine wants to see you."

"And I want to see Valentine." I think, but out loud I just grumble a reply.


	3. Chapter 3

_Authers note: thanks for the reviews! if you have any advice i would love to hear it. sorry there was no zombie slaying in this paragraph. next one i promise x_

Walking on my ankle still hurts but the wound that the piece wood had etched into my skin is healing rapidly. These people may be strange but they sure know a thing or two about medicine. Isabelle leads me down a series of corridors, so winding and maze-like that at first I think she's trying to get us lost on purpose. When we turn the twentieth corner I spot a small boy playing with a figurine soldier. He looks up at me and smiles, I can't suppress the urge to smile back at the small freckled boy and so I grin. He stands up and offers out his hand to me and I shake it. Then, still holding hands, he pulls me along to a set of grand stairs that widen out into a dining room.

The room is beautiful. The classical wood work on the walls makes it look as if it just escaped out of a fairy tale ball room. Pillars on either side keep the roof up and look white as the moon in stark comparison to the rose gold wood. The floor is also- like the pillars- made of marble. To add to the picture the north wall is completely made out of glass. The sunlight that streams through illuminates the hall and the people that sit about it.

"Isn't this place nice?" asks the little boy. I can merely stare, unable to gasp a coherent thought to express how sublime this is compared to the ways I've been roughing it out on my own in the city. "We're on a hill to so the dead don't come up here." That last statement definitely takes the cross from my shoulders.

Isabelle dismounts the stairs and the boy and I follow after her. There are two tables in the hall that lie parallel to each other. People are scattered on each in groups of about four or five. Some of the people look as if they could be related, but most don't. There are about twenty- five people in total and I wonder how difficult it must be to keep everyone fed. I was only feeding myself and most nights I had to go without food.

Isabelle leads us over to the far end of the second table. Seated already are Jace and a dark haired, blue eyes boy who I presume is Alec. They are in deep conversation and I only arrive to hear the tail end, but I know both mine and Valentines names where mentioned. I sit next to the little boy (who I later find out is called max) and across from Jace. He half smirks at me and takes a bite of whatever the gloop is inside our bowls.

"People keep talking about this Valentine person," I say, not liking the sound of him at all. "Is he like your leader or something?"

"My father," Jace says.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay." Jace smiles, easing my embarrassment. "But yeah, I guess he is our leader. He was the minister of our church before all of this shit went down, before we all decided to leave to find the Promised Land."

I nearly choke on my food. At first I didn't think I'd heard him right. Did he just say they were looking for the Promised Land? I wasn't religious at all, but even I knew what the Promised Land was. What it was supposed to be.

I stared at the boy sitting across from me, wondering if delusions could strike someone so young and handsome. Jace rolls his eyes.

"Yeah I know." He gives me a small smirk, cocking an eyebrow. "It's crazy, but were not looking for the biblical place," jace continued. "The promised land is a city. A huge city. One with the technology of the old days, before the plague. There are no infected in the Promised Land."

I stopped chewing to gape at him. "You're joking."

Alec gives a disgusted snort. "If you don't believe him, leave," he challenges, glaring at me. "No-one is stopping you."

I resist the urge to snap at her, and focus on Jace, instead. "Is it really out there?" I question, trying to give the notion of a zombie-free utopia the benefit of the doubt. "You really think you'll find it?"

Jace shrugs, unconcerned, as if he's heard it all before. "Valentine seems to think so," Isabelle says, looking up from her almost empty bowl. "Maybe it's out there and we'll never find it, but either way it gives us something to think about. Other than our dead coming back to life I mean."

"We'll find it," Max says, nodding enthusiastically. "We'll find it soon, Valentine says."

"Jonathon!"

Everyone straightens. We all turn as a man comes striding up, dressed in black, his entire frame locked into a sense of determined purpose. Everything about him seems dark and hard, from the pinched, angled face, to the sharp, bony shoulders. His long hair is the colour of steel, tied behind him in a tight tail.

His sharp grey eyes rake over me, missing very little. "The stray I presume?" he asked. "You've spoken to her Jonathon?"

"Yes, sir"

The man continued to observe me, betraying no emotion. "Your name?" he asks, like a master barking orders to a slave. I swallow a growl and meet his piercing star head-on.

"Clary," I reply, giving him a smirk. "And you must be Valentine."

"indeed." He says, with a slightly offended air. "And all know that I turn away none in need, so you are welcome here. However, if you choose to stay, there are rules you must follow. If you fall behind," he gives me a tiny smirk that suggests I wouldn't want that to happen "if you fall behind we will leave you. There is no free meals here- everybody contributes. If you don't go out hunting you don't get to eat. Thievery of any sort will not be tolerated. Follow these rules, and you are welcome to stay."

"Thanks so much." I say as sarcastically as I could. I can't help it. Throwing rules in my face; expecting me to follow. After years of being alone, I was not about to start trusting anyone else's rules but my own. Alec and Isabelle stare at me, shocked. Valentine just gives me a meek smile. But I can tell it leaks with poison.

After nodding at Jace, Valentine leaves the table. I am tempted to make a face at his back but Jace is watching me so I resist. I shoot him a side way look and raise an eyebrow.

"Jonathon?"

"Jace is just a nickname." He says, slightly embarrassed. "Come one, I'll introduce you to everyone."

Not long after, I had met nearly everyone in the small congregation. Half of them were adults, but most of them were kids: my age and under. None of them seem to have parents witch suggests the group had been a lot bigger at some point. I wonder how many people they had lost chasing after the whims of a delusional man. I shouldn't stay here. There are too many risks. And yet, I still can't shake the attraction of being part of a group, a family. "These people could be my family." I think to myself. Sure, a half insane starved family, but a family none the less.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note: sorry its been ages since I last up dated I've been real busy and all that blah blah blah. I rewrote this chapter so many times so sorry that its short. Short but sweet :) Review and tell me how to improve, ily x_

Initially the adults were cool towards me; I am a stranger, new and untried, and yet another mouth to feed. But after max had led me through the group, introducing me and glorifying my bravery (they all found it extremely impressive that I had lived on my own for so long), they regarded me with a new found respect , awe and maybe a little sympathy. I am relieved, and although I have to swallow back a few biting remarks when members of the group give me pitying looks, I am glad that I have seemingly won over this eclectic collection of strangers without having to prove myself in some way. Well, to be honest it is max that is doing all the winning over, but I'm not going to complain.

My first day of being with other humans and I am already intrigued with the blur of organised chaos, I would have to get used to other people moving hurriedly about my temporary living quarters, and not having to go for my knife. As I sink my head down on the little bed that I had been assigned I look about the room. It is small and box like, its four walls almost identical in length and width. There is only one bed, a chest of drawers and a small window on the south wall – I already scouted the window; the room is on the second floor but there is a drain pipe clinging to the wall just outside and I bet if the worst happens, I could sneak out.

I stare at the ceiling. Its colour has drained and its once white paint has metamorphosed into an off-green, mould is collecting in the corner. A knock at the door sends me into a defensive crouching position and I have to settle me nerves and shake myself out of it before I go to the door. Jace is leaning against the doorframe, his hand stretched out in offering. I look into his palm and see a strange assortment of sweets, puzzled I look up into his face, eyebrow raised. He grins charmingly and pops one into his mouth.

"Your right not to take one," he says matter of factly, "I found them in the kitchen with the packet open."

"Is that safe?" I ask, intrigued with the handsome stranger stood at my door.

"It'll probably kill me." He remarks glaring down at the sweets in his hands. "But at least this way I have control over how I die, and it's not by the teeth of our dead." He throws a gummy bear into the air and catches it between his teeth. "Besides, they taste good."

He holds his handful out to me again and I take one and begin to roll it around my fingers in a wry fashion.

"What are you doing here?" I finally say, my curiosity at his visit getting the better of me.

"I've got watch duty and valentine wants you to come with me." He stands up straighter at the sound of his father's name and I watch as his expression hardens.

"So you're my babysitter." I groan and ignore the disappointment that I feel when I learn he's here because valentine told him to be, and not because he wouldn't to be. Not that I care. He turns away, expecting me to follow.

I let him lead me through the mansion; he walks in a swift pace and my little legs have to struggle to keep up with him. The people we pass all stare at me with openly inquisitive faces and I fight the urge not to glare at them. Making friends is hard, and if Valentine has sent Jace to watch me, I need all the friends I can get if I want to stay in this decrepit group.

"Heads up," Jace says tossing a pack of survival gear at me. "You're going to need a tent when we start moving. It's not big but it'll keep the rain off you when we camp on open ground. You know how to put up a tent right?"

"Not really."

"I can show you," Jace says smiling, "tomorrow I promise. But right now you have the honour of my presence until midnight- we have first watch. Stay with me for a couple hours, and then I'll let you sleep- you could probably use it as we're heading out as soon as it starts to get light again."

I smile back at him and follow to where he has set up watch, I can't help thinking about this boy- this gorgeous, mysterious, arrogant human being- is probably going to get me killed.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Authors note: Thanks for the reviews they mean so much to me and I really appreciate all the help you guys can give me. I promise there will be zombie slaying in the next chapter because there hasn't been any dead people action in a while :) ly loads x_**

_There is a girl standing by the window. She has thick, curly red hair that billows around her head, blocking her face from view. She is crying; I'm not sure how I know as I can't see her face but I can just feel that she is; like a predatory instinct makes me want to keep this girl safe. And all my bones are screaming at me to comfort her but I can't move. My legs won't go forward and when I try to look down to see why, I find that my eyes are stuck too. My gaze is glued to the crying girl._

_After a minute of her standing in silent sorrow she whips her head around as if she hears something. Someone is approaching her but everywhere around her is out of focus. She is a sharp focus in a murky blur; acting as a telescope into an unknown world._

_The person becomes clearer the closer he inches towards her with, black leather clothes, golden hair, and a face I recognise. I can even make out his words… "You did what you had to… no one blames you… blood on your hands…"._

_The girl glances down at her blood coloured hands and holds them out to Jace. Holding eye contact with him, no longer crying, as she puts one of her blood stained fingers into her mouth and her lips purse as she sucks it clean. Jace laughs and shakes his head as she takes steps towards him and into his arms. Embracing they start to kiss until she pulls away. The sight of blood left on Jaces lips from the kiss leaves me with a queasy feeling._

_She seems to kiss his neck but when the girl pulls away blood spurts and Jace crumples to the floor. She advances towards me and I finally get to see her clearly. Emerald eyes, bright red hair, freckled face dripping with Jace's blood, some of his skin stuck between her teeth as he she smiles right at me. I am looking into the eyes of myself._

The next morning I wake up groggy and disorientated. I am not on the cold, concrete floor of my favourite hideaway, but instead in a comforting bed surrounded by the noise of other people. My bed is soaked in sweat and I shake the image of my dream from my head, expelling it from my thoughts as I wash up and throw on some relatively clean clothes.

Dropping down to the ground floor of the mansion, I find that most of the group are also beginning to stir. In the centre of the room, Alec and an older woman are handing out food, opening cans of fruit and pouring them into metal bowls and cups. Max, after receiving his share, trots over to me, a spare bowl of the stuff in his hand.

"Hi Clary." Beaming he holds out the extra cup to me. "Look at what Jace and Alec found yesterday! I got you some."

"Uh." I glance at the food collection station to see Alec glaring at me again. What the hell is that guy's problem? "Thank you Max." I say smiling. My stomach rumbles ferociously.

"You're one of us now," he grinned and skips off back to the others.

Jace heads over to me and I feel and sickening sensation in my stomach as I remember my dream. I try to pretend I haven't seen him and stroll off but he catches up to me. "You look like shit," he says. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm good," I tell him, avoiding his eyes, "Just had a bad dream."

"Jonathon!" a familiar voice called. Valentine walks into the room and motions to him. "Are we almost ready?"

"Yes sir!" Jace calls back and heads in his direction. "Everyone is packing up. As soon as we're all finished eating, we're ready to go." They walk off, still discussing. Turning, I come face-to-face with Alec.

The boy holds my gaze. He's not that tall so I don't have to struggle to look into his deep blue eyes. Oh man, he doesn't just dislike me, he _loathes_ me.

"Can I help you?" I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.

He flushes. "I know who you are," he huffs. "I know why you're here, why you're hanging around."

Narrowing my eyes, I regard him intently. "Is that so?"

"Yes, and I'm here to tell you to forget it. Jace isn't interested."

Ah, _now_ it all makes sense. I have to stifle a laugh. "Look you don't have to worry," I say, keeping my tone as reasonable as possible. "I'm not interested in him in that way either. Although, just a word of warning: I don't think your his type.", immediately regretting saying something so mean.

Alec takes a step closer to me, his face going as red as my hair. Anger rolls of off him in waves. "Just stay away from my family." He says through gritted teeth. "Or I swear to god, I will find a way to get rid of you."

"Charming," I mutter under my breath as he stalks away.

Not long after that, fed, packed up and ready to march, the small group of 13 people gathers around the front door, talking quietly with each other and shooting curious glances at me. Then, as if prodded by some invisible force, we all start moving out; 5 teens, 4 adults, 3 children and me, weaving silently through town and onto the road. We walk quickly- even the kids and the elderly woman move with a sense of purpose- and soon New York fades behind us.


	6. Chapter 6

_Authors note: Recently I've been trying to upload every week and this is the first chapter that has been late so sorry about that. I made it longer to make up for it :)_

My companions are another issue. Except for Alec, who continues to be a spiteful pain in the ass, shooting me poisonous looks whenever I so much as look at Jace or Max, and Valentine, who treats me with the same cruel aloofness as he does everyone else, the group is pretty friendly. Which I wouldn't mind, except they are also a curious bunch, always asking me how I managed on my own, what the outbreak was like in a city, how I stayed alive. I answer as vaguely as I can and eventually the adults have started to catch on that I don't want to talk about it- my memories are just too painful. The questions will stop, but in their absence is pity, and I don't know which is worse; I don't want them to think I am weak because I am not.

Unfortunately that isn't the only problem I have. Alec has it in for me. I can hear him sometimes, talking about me to the rest of the group, spreading suspicion and lies. Most of them- Maia, Max and the older woman: dorethea- pay little attention to him; they have bigger concerns than the jealous accusations of a teenage boy. But some of the others- Samuel, Magnus, and even the small twins' Livvy and ty- have started to eye me with distrust. As infuriating as it is, I can't do anything about it.

Despite that, it is Valentine who worries me the most, the silent judge, whose sharp grey eyes miss nothing. But even though he is the leader, he seems apart from the rest of the group, separate. He rarely speaks to anyone, and everyone seems afraid to approach him. If it wasn't for Jace, relaying his orders back and forth, he wouldn't interact with the group at all.

In fact I bet I know more about the group than he does. I know Max loves his action figure. I know Maia, the teenager who trusts me, and Jordan, a teenager who doesn't, dated but now she avoids him completely. I know Magnus always spends 30 minutes in the morning, before everyone else is up, applying glittery makeup to his orange catlike eyes. I know that ty and Livvy lost all their family to walkers. It's all these little things that make me feel like I could be part of them, like I know them.

But it is Jace that continues to fascinate and confuse me. It is clear that everyone respects him; despite being Valentines second. He is always helping, always making sure everyone is being taken care of, but he does it in a subtle way, he laughs off his kindness with a sarcastic comment or a wry statement that distracts people from his nice side. Yet he never asks for anything in return, never accepts anything even if it is offered.

We make camp earlier than usual. Everyone is tired from the long walk; their sun baked bodies ache and groan. I wander to the campfire and am shocked to find Jace reading to Livvy and ty. Stunned, I creep closer to the scene. The twins are curled up around each other, there eyelids half closed, the fire toasting their backs. Jace reads over them, his low, smooth voice reciting passages from the book in his lap. When he is finished, he picks them up, one in each arm and they snuggle into his neck. Then he deposits them into their tent and returns to the fire.

"I didn't know you were so good with kids." I say, going to sit next to him.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, freckles." He answers. His gaze never leaves the fire but he bumps his shoulder with mine. We sink into a comfortable silence and I realise how right he is, I barely know him at all.

"Tell me something about you then." I ask, my eyes meeting his. He smiles as he looks down at me.

"I was a champion synchronized swimmer." He says, his voice remaining serious.

"No you were not!" I reply giggling.

"I was so," his voice is teasing and a smile tugs at his lips. He raises his arms above his head and bows. "I was the best of the best, and frankly I am offended that you don't know who I am." He mimics another move, his arms swivelling in the air. I begin to laugh and I become conscious that we are sitting so close that I can feel him chuckle in return.

I stare into the fire, a smile still plastered to my face. I can feel him watching me and so raise my eyes to meet his. He looks into my eyes, and then looks down at my lips. His head comes closer, closer.

"Oh hey guys." Magnus says, sitting down next to Jace. We spring apart and awkwardly acknowledge the new comer. Magnus looks at us and seems to pick up on the awkward tension, "sorry if I was interrupting anything…"

I stand up. "Oh no, you weren't, it was nothing." I say and catch a hurt look in Jace's eyes as I walk away, into my tent.

The following morning, I crawl out of my tent to find Isabelle, Jace and Jordan crouching near the edge of camp, talking in low voices. They look as if they are trying to avoid attention, which of course piques my curiosity. Brushing sleep from my eyes, I amble towards them. "I knew this would happen," Izzy mutters in a quiet voice as I approach. "We should have stocked up when we had the chance. Who knows when well come to another town?"

"What's going on?" I ask, squatting beside them. I try to catch Jace's eye but he doesn't look at me. I try to ignore how much that hurts. Jordan sighs.

"Supplies are running low." He confesses. "At this rate, well run out of food in a couple of days, even if we cut back the rations." He stabs a hand through his dark brown hair, racking it back. "We are thinking about going hunting, but Valentine doesn't like the group to separate. Not when there's a chance of running into walkers. Plus were running low on weapons." He adds and nods towards a pile of throwing knives, a couple of bow and arrows and a silver whip which I recognise as the one Izzy always keeps wrapped around her arm, or at her waist.

"Why not use guns?" I ask, remembering a shotgun at Valentines side. Jace shakes his head and looks at me for the first time today.

"We're pretty low on ammo," he replies. "Besides they make too much noise without a silencer. Fire one of those things off when there's a herd nearby and you're screwed. Only use firearms in an emergency."

"Can I come with you?" the boys exchange a look and Izzy raises a perfectly sculptured eye brow. "I know how to hunt," I add. "I'm quiet, and I'm stronger than you think. How else could I have survived all those years on my own." I ignore the voice in my head that reminds me how much of a struggle it was and how I only barely survived. "I also have my own weapons, so I wouldn't need to borrow any of yours." I gesture towards the katana at my back and the many knives hidden about my person.

"It's not that," Izzy says. "It's just… I don't want you to get into trouble with valentine, make him question his decision to let you stay with us."

Annoyed, I frown at them all, pride stinging. I pull out a knife that was sheathed in my boot and fling it at a tree that stands about 30m away. My knife flies through dead middle of a leaf, which is then pinned into the bark of the tree trunk. I also manage to narrowly miss Alec's head as he leaves his tent.

Alec walks over to us and sits down. "I say you let her come." I look at him shocked and he shrugs as if to say 'it's no big deal'. "We need the food and she's clearly capable of taking care of herself." Everyone, including Jace glances at my knife. I hide a smug smile. "if she gets kicked out of the group or not is her decision." Ahh, so that's why he wants me to come. Even though Alec has a subplot I still feel a wave of gratitude towards him.

"All right then." Jace says, meeting my gaze. "Looks like were going hunting."

_Authors note: I know ive claimes this more than once but this time I promise there reallywill be zombies in the next chapter... a lot of them in fact ;). Review if you enjoyed, I loved hearing from yall! x_


	7. Chapter 7

I creep through the clearing cautiously, my sword hanging from my arm and scraping the top of the grass as I walk. My whole body is alert; buzzing with the exhilaration that comes with hunting. I make no sound. I am silent, it's as if I have become part of my surroundings, I am a stray gush of wind swaying the trees gently. I continue to prowl the rolling hills until I come across a small herd of deer. Sheathing my sword, I take out a knife and creep forward through the grass, staying downwind, until I can see the gentle rise and fall of their sides.

It is over very quickly. The small buck I single out didn't even know something was wrong until it had my knife sticking out of its neck; the poor thing was far too late. The rest of the herd scatter as I walk out towards the beast, taking my knife and slitting its throat. I watch as the life drains from its eyes and can't help but feel sad that a beautiful creature had to die. Remembering the children's rumbling bellies back at camp snaps me straight out of the feeling as I know my actions are in everyone's best interest (except possibly the stags). I learnt a long time ago that survival in this world is all about making the hard choices, ones that may hurt innocent creatures. We must do anything and everything just to live.

Being alone in the woods reminds me of the years I spent fending for myself, how easy it would be to sink back into that life. But it also reminds me of how grateful I am for the company the group provides. Being alone was miserable, and lonely. I wasn't living, I was surviving and maybe I hadn't realised that being surrounded by the dead but now- eating, sleeping and travelling alongside the living, I am beginning to learn how much other people can teach you to simply be alive. That said, a voice at the back of my head reminds me how quickly those same people could turn against me. I try to push down that thought and go back to the task at hand.

Grabbing the small deer by the horns, I start to drag it away, when a faint but familiar sound drifts over the grass, coming from the nearby road. As I freeze, wondering what it could be, the smell hits me. My stomach twists, and my blood goes cold.

Ducking into the grass I watch a walker stumble across the concrete, and then another, and another. I slowly raise my head and stare down the road at the heard of maybe 30 walkers approaching. I start to shudder with revulsion and fear, wondering what the hell I was going to do now. They are not walking that quickly, but the group up ahead would need time to pack up and collect everyone. My brain hums with ways to protect them. I am sucked from my thoughts at the sound of footsteps behind me and I raise my sword, ready to fight.

"Whoa there red," Jace says, raising his arms, "I don't mean any harm" I silence him with a look and press a finger to my lips, pointing with my other hand to the herd. "shit." He exclaims. I watch Jace's face turn from friendly to ice cold and thank the gods that he doesn't look at my like that because his face is terrifying. A look of cold fury and determination crawls onto his features, like a demon trying to possess him. He looks down at me and I know he is thinking the same thing as me: we can't let them get to the others. Then it hits me. I know a way in which I can save the group that saved me.

"Are you a good runner?" I ask Jace, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, why?" he asks and I think for the first time I am glad for his blunt honesty. I turn to look at him and stand on my tiptoes so that my mouth is next to his ear. I take the opportunity to soak in his golden glow, his heat, his smell.

"Tell the others to pack up and run. Now go." I tell him and kiss him on the check. He looks stunned and I yell: "go!" he knows now that he has no choice but to run. I watch him as he sprints off to the group. Then I begin to shout.

I scream and yell and shout until all of the zombies have started to stumble in my direction, and then I run. I really run. My legs pump underneath me and my red hair flaps behind me but I don't slow down and neither do I stop yelling. This whole time I am completely calm. I know that I am doing the right thing; I know that I am saving lives by leading the dead in the other direction from the camp. I feel a feeling of triumph as I think about the stupid things, stumbling after me; I tricked them out of a perfectly good meal. Know I just have to stop myself from being killed in the process.

Looking behind I see that I am gaining distance and we are so far from the road by now that I know my job has been done effectively. And I begin to turn back when my leg gets caught and I fall face first into the moss below me. I yank my foot and release it from is earthy trap. Turning onto my back, I see a zombie. Its eyes are dead, like that of the deer, and its mouth snaps in hunger. I scramble backwards until my head hits a tree trunk and I know that I am screwed. It is going to devour me and I am going to die. I sit there, trapped by the monster, raise my knife and stare at it as forcefully as I can. I will not be scared.

_Swoosh._ An arrow slices through the air and embeds itself into the head of the creature before me and it topples, defeated next to my crouching elf. Rising, I catch a glimpse of my saviour; Jace holds a crossbow and winks at me. Surrounding him are the others: Izzy, Alec and Jordan. They are all caught in combat, swinging swords, throwing knives and generally kicking zombie butt.

"Didn't think I'd leave you did ya?" Jace says, unsheathing a glass like sword from his belt. "You should know me better than that red. I can't resist a damsel in distress."

"I don't need your help," I say, standing and slicing of the head of an approaching walker. I grow angered at his words and my face turns stormy. "I was doing fine on my own."

"A simple thank you would do" Jace retorts, turning away from me and slicing through two walkers who dared get close. Then I submerge myself in the battle raging around me, slicing of head after head in a frenzy. My katana moves as if it is an extension of my arm, it glides delicately through the air cutting down anything that comes in my way. My hair circles in a red halo around my head as I slice and cut down all and everything.

Jace and the others do the same, their bodies twisting and slicing rhythmically as walkers fall dead to the ground. Eventually, the last body falls and we all stand together united in our glory, the bodies of the dead lay before us.

"We should head back to the group." Izzy says, "Valentine is not going to be happy with us."

"You did tell him and the group to get going though right? Not all of them may have followed me." I ask suddenly panicked that it was all in vain after all.

"Don't worry; they should be leaving right now." Jace says to me. I sigh with relief, everyone is safe. Then we walk in comfortable silence back to the group ahead of us.

We reach our old campsite and see the group marching on ahead of us. Running up to them, valentines voice can be heard, my heart starts to beat faster as I know he won't be happy with us. I wait for the inevitable scolding but find none, he barely even acknowledges our presence apart from to tell us to keep up and scour the land with our eyes.

I weave my way through the crowd and fall in step with Jace, who marched ahead without looking at me. As I stand beside him, his shoulders tense and a look of concentration wipes his face, it's as if he's trying really hard not to look at me.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my voice coming out weaker than I intended it to. He just looks at me and shrugs, his face dropping.

"I just… I can't believe I left you back there. When I saw the herd I just… didn't know what to do and so when you told me to run I ran so fast that I felt as if I was flying. And I didn't even question it. I left you there to deal with it on your own and I hate myself for it." He looks down at me now, his expression a mixture of pain and frustration. "I am so sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for something I told you to do. Besides, I needed to be the distraction because I wouldn't have reached the group in time and still have enough to swing back to save you. I can't run as fast and strategically it was the best way." My face softens as I look into his eyes, my steps mirroring his. "These people need you Jace. I'm expendable."

He glances down at me then his eyes sharp. "Don't say stuff like that! You're part of our family now clary."

"Thank you." I say softly, my voice barely hear able.

"What for?" he asks, and his arm brushes mine for a second that makes my heart skip a beat.

"For coming back for me; for saving me a second time. Thank you for letting me be part of all of this." I gesture around me at all the people, his friends, family. And now mine. "I was alone for so long that I forgot what it was like to be around people, thank you for reminding me."

He smiled down at me and said: "well I saved you and you saved me, now were equal."

His arm brushed mine again and smiling I replied: "I guess I just can't resist a damsel in distress."


	8. Chapter 8

"You sure about that?" Alec asks as I approach. Jace smiles at me and nods, and my gut prickles. Madame Dorethea snorts through her nose and glares at the boy.

"My elbow ain't never wrong," she announces, bushy eyebrows bristling. "It only aches when there is a storm coming. Considering it feels as though it's about to fall off, I'd say that there is a big one on the horizon."

The horizon is clear. The sky cloudless and a bright blue. I can see why Alec is sceptical, but Jace studies the sky as if he can see a storm approaching.

"Good," he murmurs, as a sudden gust of wind tosses his golden hair. "its been a few days since we crossed that stream. Water is running low- this will come at a good time."

"Are we going to stop?" I ask. Alec snorts.

"No," Jace replies, ignoring his friend. "Unless it becomes truly dangerous, Valentine will keep us moving through the storm. Walkers are harder to see in bad weather. You can't hear them coming till they're right up on you. It's not safe to stay put."

I remember another storm, a storm from a long time ago. I see myself huddled against the corner of an old room, my arms clutched around my chest and I was deathly cold. And so skinny that I looked as if I would snap in half. I shudder at the memory, now days I dislike thinking about the years I spent on my own.

"If the rain comes down at all," Alec put in, making Dorethea frown. "But I suppose death by lightening is better than death by walkers. At least I won't see it coming."

"Well, if anything, you can finally get a shower," Jace retorted. "No wonder we can't shoot anything- they can smell your stink coming a mile away."

Alec casually flips him the finger. Jace only laughs.

True to Madame Dorethea's predictions, dark clouds soon billow on the horizon, blocking out the sun, and the wind is picking up speed rapidly. Lightning flickers, eerie white strands snaking through the clouds, and thunder booms an answer.

It starts to rain, torrential sheets that whip at our faces and exposed skin, drenching everything. We press forward at a crawl, heads bowed and shoulders hunched against the wind. Huddling together for warmth, we struggle through the ground that has turned to swamp. I watch as Jace and Izzy pull Max from the worst parts of the mud, sometimes hefting him onto their backs when it gets too deep. Everyone was shivering, and max nearly hurt himself when he fell into a puddle that nearly swallowed her whole, but Valentine didn't even slow down.

The rain continues. A few hours before nightfall, a new sound begins to penetrate the constant hiss of falling water. A low roar, faint at first, but growing louder and stronger, until the ground slopes away, and we stand at the banks of a dark rushing river.

Valentine stands at the edge, arms crossed, lips pressed tight as he glares at the river in frustration. Turning, he motions to Jace, and I edge forward, listening to their voices over the roar of the water.

"Get the rope," Valentine orders, gesturing to Jaces pack.

"Sir?"

Valentine frowns and turns away, observing the river again. "get everyone ready to move. We're crossing now."

I edge closer. Jace hesitates, gazing at the water in concern. "you don't think that we should stop for the night?" he asks. "Wait for the water to go down a little? The current is probably to strong for the smaller ones." He glances at me when he says that and I can't help but feel offended because surely I have shown that I am not a liability?

"Then have someone help them." Valentines voice is ruthlessly calm. "We need to be on the other side tonight." I catch his eye when he says this and almost think I can see a glint of fear in those dark holes.

"Sir-"

"Jonathon," Valentine interrupts, turning to stare at him, his face plastered with barely concealed fury. "Do not make me repeat myself." Jace holds his gaze for a moment, and then looks away.

"Make sure everyone is ready soon," Valentine says in a perfectly civil tone that makes me want to punch him in the jaw. "Once we're on the other side of the river, we can rest. But I want us safely across before we relax."

Jace nods reluctantly. "Yes, sir".

He backs away, shrugging of his pack, as Valentine turns and stares out over the water again. His gaze lingers on something I couldn't see, something down by the water's edge, and his thin mouth tightens.

I wait until he walks away until I got to stand where he was, searching for what it was he was looking at. The water rushes by at breaknech speed, dark and angry. I wonder what Valentine is thinking; is he really that stubborn and heartless to push on through that? Especially when there are kids in the group?

Lightening flickers, and the glare reflects the sudden gleam of dead white eyes. Jerking round, I gaze downstream, my hand flying to the handle of my sword. What I thought was a boulder; I can now see to be one of those massive horned creatures that roam the plains in huge herds. This one, bloated and obviously dead, has been lying on its side facing me, but its intestines are pulled out and lie around it in a heap of gore, and its legs are non-existent apart from the odd piece of bone. The wind shifts, and I catch a whiff of the unmistakable stench of death and _wrongness _that generally haunts walkers.

My gut twists, and I hurry over to help Jordan and Jace, unknotting ropes. _So valentine isn't an evil bastard after all. Good to know. _Though I wonder why he hasn't told Jace that there could be walkers in the area; surely that would be a good thing for the second in command to know. Maybe he just doesn't want to spread panic and to the rest of the group. Or maybe the prickly bastard just doesn't like to explain his orders to anybody. But at least his reasoning to get to the other side is legit and not simply suicidal.

_"Walkers can't travel through deep or fast- moving water," Simon says, taking my hand as he leads me through the deep blue lake. "I don't really know why- they can't drown. Maybe they just don't understand why the ground won't hold them up anymore. Or maybe it's simpler than that- maybe no one ever taught them to swim." he chuckles warmly, and I watch as his chest rises up and down, up and down._

_I let Simon lead me through the water, away from the cries of the dead, trusting him with everything in me. _He is everything I have _I think and smile, holding on tighter to his hand._

I watch Jace, carrying the rope, stride through the mud to a thick tree near the riverbank, and hurry over.

"How are we getting across?" I ask Jace, who is busy winding one end of the rope around the trunk before knotting it tight. His hands skim over his work gracefully, checking his work. Then he looks up and nods his head at me a little, the right corner of his mouth rising in a hint of a smile.

"We hang on for dear life."

"How?" I ask, glancing at the trunk. "The rope is on this side of the river. It won't help us unless it's on the other side of the bank."

"Exactly." Jace winks at me and ties the other end of the rope around his waist. I stare at him, alarmed, and he grins maniacally. "At least I'm already wet this time."

I look at the foaming, rushing water and shake my head. "Isn't that a little… dangerous".

"Exactly." Jace looks up, meeting my eyes. "Jordan and Maia can't swim, and I won't ask Alec, Izzy or any of them take the risk. It has to be me."

Before I can answer, he strips off his boots and jacket, placing them neatly at the top of the bank. Then, with everyone watching, he slips down the bank, sliding a bit in the mud, and steps into the river. A brief pause as he gazes up and down the bank, surveying the current, then plunges into the foaming waters.

The undertow catches him immediately and he begins to swim doggedly for the far shore. I watch his golden head, bobbing along the surface, sometimes getting pulled down. Each time he vanishes I bite my cheek and clench my fists until his head breaks the surface once more. He is quite a strong swimmer; I watch his arms as they plough through the water, the muscles in his back visible through his sodden t-shirt. It is several tense, breathless moments before he emerges, dripping and panting, on the other side. As the rest of the cheer, Jace stumbles over to a tree, ties a rope around the trunk, and then sinks down heavily in the mud, apparently exhausted.

He does, however, jump up and help as soon as the rest of the group start over, standing at the water's edge to help those who make it across. I hang back, watching, as Maia crosses first, her face white as she enters the rough waves. After she makes it safely across, Dorethea and Samuel make their slow, painstaking way across, inching forward, their wrinkled fingers gripping on for all their worth.

Then Izzy turns to me.

"Your turn Clary," she says, holding out a hand. I look over to where the three kids, Max, Livvy and Ty, stand on the bank, huddled together in the rain.

"What about them?"

"Jace will be back over to help," Izabelle replies. "He'll take Max across, I'll take Ty and Alec will take Livvy. Don't worry; it's not like this our first crossing. Alec will be right behind you." She smiles again and motions me forward. "Of course, if you need help, I'm sure we can get someone to piggyback you across."

"No thanks." I take her hand and make my way down to the rope. "I think I can handle it myself."

The water shocks me. Not the temperature- the freezing cold rain had already numbed- but the strength of the undertow as it tried sucking me down was impressive. If it wasn't for my strong swimming ability, I might be a lot more panicked right now.

_"Whoa whoa, take it easy, don't stress." Simon says, taking both my arms out in front of me and pulling me along. "Just kick and I'll hold on to you, I won't let you go I promise. You'll be swimming like a fish in no time!" I giggled, swallowing pond water in the process. _

The water isn't very deep- only coming up to my chest and im short, but the current fights me every step. Somewhere behind me, Alec shouts to keep going, his voice nearly lost over the roar. I look back. Shy little Livvy clings to his back with her arms around his neck, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

As I turn to look at them, something big comes hurtling towards us over the water- a broken tree trunk, bouncing on the waves. I shout to Alec, but the tree is moving too fast, and my warning comes too late. The tree trunk slams into him, tearing him away from the rope, and he vanishes into the waves. Livvy screams once before she is pulled under and lost from sight.

_Authors note: sorry for the cliff-hanger guys, stay tuned for the next chapter. Lol i sound annoying. Okay thanks for everything i love you all you're awesome (lol im also putting you in suspense about Simon. Are you not entertained?). Sorry about me im just running off of a hell load of caffeine and 3 hours sleep. i will update next Sunday :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Authors note: sorry for the cliff-hanger, I just had to do it. Thank you so much for your continued support, you guys are amazing and you're reviews genuinely make my day. Please don't hesitate to give me suggestions; I'm willing to make awesome changes __J__. Okay sweet. Enjoy!_

I don't think. I just act. Releasing the line, I dive into the water. The current sucks at me, dragging me along like a rag doll. It resisted my attempts to thrash my way to the surface, tumbling me along the bottom; until it was hard knowing which way was up. For a few moments I panic… until I catch sight of a flash of blue which reminds me of the reason I am here: I need to save Livvy. Once I stop fighting the current, it is much easier. The river rushes me along, and I scan the top of the rolling waves, searching for Livvy and Alec. I catch a split-second glimpse of a blue dress for the second time and I lunge in that direction.

It is a long minute before I manage to grab the limp, bobbing girl and haul her to me, struggling to keep her little face out of the water. Planting my feet on the river bottom, feeling the current rip my legs as I brace myself, I strike out for the shore.

Staggering up the bank, I lay Livvy on her back and sink down beside her. My heart beats faster than hummingbird's wings as I anxiously study her for signs of life. The girl looks wholly drowned; eyes closed, mouth slightly open, light brown hair tangled and smeared across her face. She doesn't seem to be breathing. I put an ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat, bracing myself to hear only a hollow emptiness.

It is there. Faint, but still beating. Still alive.

I sit up, biting my lips as I stare at the motionless girl. I have an inkling of what I am supposed to do; back when the world hadn't turned to shit, id watched as a boy on television was dragged from a river. His rescuer had tried to resuscitate him, breathing in his mouth and pumping his chest. The boy had not lived. I can't help but wonder if Livia will share the same fate.

_Well, she certainly will if you don't do something Clary._

"Dammit," I mutter, gently prying open the girls mouth and pinching her nose shut. "I have no idea what I am doing here," I warn her, before lowering my mouth to hers. I have to remember to steady my breathing, take a deep breath, before slowly releasing it past the girl's lips.

I do this five or six times, breathing for the girl, feeling her stomach expands and contract with each breath. Livia remains limp, unresponsive. By the seventh breath, I am ready to admit defeat, when Livvy suddenly chokes, gages and starts coughing, expelling river water from her mouth and nose. Relieved I draw back and as she struggles upwards, bends over and vomits water and mud into the grass.

Shivering, she looks at me, her small body tense. "Relax," I tell her in a gentle voice, recalling all the wide-eyed, fearful looks she'd given me when I first joined, Alec's doing probably. "You fell into the river, but you're safe now. When you're up for it, we can go find the other-"

Livvy lunges forward, throwing her arms around my neck and snuggling close to me, burying her face in my shoulder. I freeze for a second, shocked, before I hug her back and finally let myself relax. "Let's get back to the group." I say, standing up. "They're probably looking for us." I hope. Or has Valentine already given up on us for dead and moved on?

Gazing at the foaming river, I wince. _I hope Alec made it out okay,_ I think, trudging along the riverbank with Livia close behind. _There's nothing I can do for him now. _

The walk back up the river was longer than I thought; the current had carried us quite a ways. Livia snivels and whimpers a bit but, clutching my hand, we manage to make it out of the worst of the mud. The rain has finally let up, and night is approaching fast. At last we can see figures.

We walk back to camp where Livia is greeted with hugs and tears, her twin brother doesn't let go of her from the moment he first saw her, and a few smiles are thrown my way. Dorethea even took my hand in both of hers and squeezed with her old withered fingers, mumbling about how I was god send and how they were so grateful that I had joined the family. Embarrassed, I excused myself and retreated to the bonfire at the edge of the camp.

And that is where I still am when Alec comes to join me. His clothes and hair are still slightly damp and he smells faintly of river. "So you made it out alive then?" I say to him as he approaches.

"Yeah, I managed to grasp onto the log that knocked us down and when it got caught on some roots, the others hauled me out. I owe them my life." He says this with a pleased smile, as if he is proud of them for saving him rather than grateful. I wonder why this is, but assume it has something to do with siblings.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay." I say, surprised to find I actually mean it.

"I just… wanted to apologize and thank you. I haven't been very… welcoming with you and I can see know that maybe I misjudged you. What you did for Livia was amazing and I just want you to know how grateful I am. She would be dead if it wasn't for you. So thank you." Alec stood up, patted me awkwardly on the head and left me to sit on my own, wondering what an earth just happened.

"Making friends?" says a familiar voice from behind me, and I stand up to greet him. Before I can say anything, Jace takes me into his arms and hugs me, tight. My eyes flutter closed and I feel his warmth all around me, enveloping me. I feel encompassed by his golden glow. I hug him back, my arms going around his waist, my fingers brushing the muscles in his back. My stomach flips.

"I'm glad your back freckles," he says, pulling away. "You've got some balls for a little person, I'll give you that. That's twice in a week you've done something stupidly heroic." I just shrug in response, and look down at my feet. "You are alright though aren't you? No broken bones, no hidden concussions? No fish swimming around in your lungs?"

I smile at him. "There might be a guppy or two, but I'm sure I'll cough them up before tomorrow," I say, and he chuckles. My stomach squirms weirdly at that laugh, and I ease back towards my tent. "I think I'm done for the night, though. Something about near-death experiences always wear me out." I yawn, covering my mouth and stretching. "See you tomorrow?"

He reaches for me before I can turn, taking a strand of my damp hair, running it lightly through his fingers. I freeze, my stomach in knots. "Clary." Jace's smile sends a rush of warmth through me, and I have to stifle the urge to touch him, skin to skin, just to feel the heat. "I'm glad you're here," Jace murmurs without a trace of embarrassment or guile. "It feels good having you here, like we were meant to have you here. I hope you'll stay, so we can see Utopia together."

He gives my hair a final, gentle tug and turns away. I watch him go, anxiety and longing and that strange, squirmy feeling twisting my insides. Crawling into my tent, I pull the blanked over my head and try to sleep, to forget Jace. His touch. His warmth. And the feeling of danger that lights up in me whenever he is around.


	10. Chapter 10

_My vision is blurred. Everything is tinted red, like I am looking through a stained glass window. I watch a boy with golden hair stand at the balcony. His luscious locks are gently tossed behind his head by a stray wind that comes from the front of him. He is wearing a white shirt and black jeans. The shirt is open, billowing behind him like a cape. Silhouetted by the rising sun, the golden boy looks like an angel. _

_I watch as a girl who resembles me goes over to him. He turns at her touch on his back and his expression is one of hunger and lust. The short red head looks up at him, and he searches her body with his eyes, as if he has lost something and she is hiding it beneath her black silk dress. _

_They step closer to one another and begin to kiss; his hands are on her back, her body, hers are delicately entwined in his hair. She pulls away and taking his hand, the girl leads him to the very edge of the balcony. They both stand on the railing and look down on the ground beneath them. The girl turns to him, her hair crowning her head in a halo of blood red. She leans up to his neck. She presses her lips to the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. The girl sinks her teeth into his skin._

_I watch as she pulls away, her mouth stained as red as her hair. I watch as she pushes the golden boy off of the balcony. I watch as he crumbles from safety and flies through the air to the ground below. His face is an expression of pain and fear, his eyes silently crying out for help. _

_The girl observes all of this with a steely expression. She licks the blood from her chin. Turning her back from the boy with golden hair, she greets the new comer, her eyes light up from the familiar face._

_"__Simon." She says._

I wake up to the sound of someone saying my name outside of the tent. I sit up, my tank top is plastered to my skin and the smell of sweat is prominent for my nose. "Clary," Jace calls again from outside of my tent. "Are you okay in there?" My mouth is dry and I find I don't know the answer to that question. "When you're out, come and find me okay?"

"okay." I manage to reply, my voice sounds weak and hollow, it croaks as if I've never used it before.

When I clean up and put on some new clothes, I head out of the tent and see Jace ahead of me, seated under a tree. As I walk over, he notices me and smiles. My stomach flips. I sit down next to him and hug my knees, my back presses against the cold bark. Jace looks down at me, he eyes warm and concerned. "Who's Simon?" he asks.

"What?" I ask him in shock. How does he know that name? How does he know to ask me about that name? My hands begin to shake and I hug myself closer, my breaths coming in quick, short puffs. I feel myself start to panic. The monster of my past rumbles inside of me, daring to be let free, waiting to swallow me whole. I tremble, my whole body wracked with fear and panic.

"I heard you say his name when you were sleeping." He says, his voice gentle, as if he is trying hard not to break me, as if he thinks that I am fragile. This pisses me off. I know it shouldn't, but it does.

"Why where you listening to me sleep?" I snap, my voice wavering almost hysterically.

"It was hard not too with you yelling so loud, I'll bet everyone heard you." He says, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Well, it's none of your business who s-… he is. You don't know me, what makes you think that you can talk to me about things like that?" By now I had stood up, feeling empowered by the sight of him beneath me. The panic was still gnawing at my insides, and every aspect of my being was telling me to run, to get away from that name. To get away from the memory of what I did. The memory of what I did to Simon.

"Clary, I'm sorry, I didn't know that-… I hadn't realised it was such a delicate subject." He rises, his voice calming, trying to reassure me. His hands are out in front of him as if I am a wild hose and he is trying to calm me down, tame me.

My instincts take over and I begin to run away in the direction of the trees but before I can get to them someone steps out in front of me. Magnus grabs my arms and tries to steady me. "Sorry Cl-" he stops midsentence when he sees the tears that have appeared on my face, and his expression melts to one of pity. "Darling, darling come this way." He leads me into the trees and we sit on a fallen log, his arm around my shoulders, my nose sniffing into his side.

"What did Jace say to you that caused this reaction?" Magnus exclaims and squeezes my side supportively. "He can go over the top sometimes, whatever he said I bet he didn't mean it." For some reason, Magnus being so nice make me cry even harder. I sob so loud that I have to quit myself just in case there are walkers around.

When I am capable of speech I say:" thank you for being so nice but really it was my fault. I said a boy's name in my sleep and Jace was worried about me. I overreacted, it was my fault."

"Boys name huh?" Magnus raises an eyebrow at me suggestively.

"It really wasn't like that." I roll my eyes at Magnus and wipe my nose on my sleeve in a totally unhygienic way. "He is… was my best friend. I'd known him since I was 2 maybe. We practically grew up together, like my brother really." I take a shaky sigh, and hope Magnus won't ask me anything more about it.

"Do you know what I think?" He says, taking the hint that I had done talking about my past. "I think Jace is jealous."

"Jealous?" I exclaim in a stutter, surprise practically seeping from my eyes. "Why would he be jealous?"

"I've seen the ways he looks at you, he's totally into you. And then when he hears you crying out this other guy's name, his poor male ego can't handle it." Magnus purrs, his slated, yellow eyes gleaming mischievously. "So obviously he's worried about you, and he uses that worry to suss out his competition."

"What? Magnus that's ridiculous, Jace doesn't like me! And even if he does, he shouldn't use that as an excuse to snoop into my personal life." My mind reels at the concept of Jace's affections. It's so preposterous it's not even worth thinking about; why would anyone like him, think about someone like me…? Besides, I have more oppressing matters to be thinking about, like zombies, and staying alive.

"Okay." The man retorts dubiously. "If you say so!" his sing song voice cheers me up and a little giggle escapes my lips. "Jace is hot," he says matter of factly, "but Alec is so much hotter." I find myself blush at his words and I giggle again. "Those eyes of his… mmmmm"

"Magnus!" I exclaim, laughing at his forwardness.

"What?" he asks me innocently, his long eyelashes fluttering. I laugh again and we begin to walk back again.

"So do you think I should apologise to Jace?" I ask him as we walk.

"Clary, I think you should stop worrying about it so much. You can trust us, and you've proved more than enough that we can trust you. You're part of the family now; we are going to accept you no matter what happened in your past." I smile at his words and feel a warm feeling settle in my stomach. But just as soon as it settles, I remember why that phrase is familiar.

_"__We are family now, you, Luke and I, we look out for each other, and we trust each other." Simon says, entwining his fingers in mine. "We love you Clary, no matter what happened in the past."_

The memory of Simon makes me feel sick and I must have cringed as Magnus gives me a concerned look. "If you ever need help with your memories, I'm here." Magnus says, giving me a wink before sauntering off towards Alec. I watch him go fondly. He really has grown on me, with all of his oddities; he is the most grounded person here.

"Clary, hey!" I hear a voice call, and looking over my shoulder, I head over into that direction. Isabelle, Jordan, Maia and Jace are all crowded around a set of weapons. Izzy beckons me over, and there is urgency in her eyes.

"We're going hunting, go grab you're sword." She says, stroking her whip, and glances at my tent on the other side of camp. "Be back in five or we are leaving without you."

"So, do you know how to shoot one of those things?" Jordan asks Maia, as I follow them all into the woods three minutes later. Maia carries an elegant looking bow, its dark oak the same colour as her skin. She narrows her eyes in a 'don't mess with me' way.

"I've got the general idea thanks," Maia replies, her eyes shooting ice, "point the pointy end at the animal and pull the string, right?" she bats her eyelashes, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"There's a bit more to it than that but yeah…" Jordan looks a bit embarrassed. "What I'm trying to say is, if you need any help or anything, which you obviously don't…" Jordan trails of at the look on Maia's face.

A pebble comes sailing through the air then, hitting Jordan in the chest. I look up, and see Jace holding a finger to his lips; he is crouched under a tree, his body tense. He points to a clump of bushes ahead.

I am instantly alert. Something is moving in the undergrowth about fifty yards away, a large black shape, shuffling low to the ground. Jace smoothly reaches behind him, silently draws an arrow from his quiver, fits it to the string and pulls back the cord, I breath in slowly.

The stench of blood, rot and general _wrongness_ hits me like a hammer, and I gasp. "Jace no!" I whisper, throwing out a hand, but it is too late. Jace releases the string, and the arrow shoots into the bushes, striking its mark with a muffled _thunk_.

A maddened squeal rises into the air, making my blood run cold. The bushes part and a huge boar lunges into the clearing, frothing and shaking its head. Its eyes blaze white, with no pupils or irises, and blood streams from the sockets, running down its bristly fur. Two yellow tusks curl from its jaw, razor sharp and lethal, as it screams again and charges at Jace.

As I lunge forward, Jace drops the bow, pulling out his hand gun and machete at the same time, and firing several shots at the rabid pig. I see blood erupt from its head, face and shoulders, but the crazed animal doesn't slow down. At the last instant, Jace steps away, swinging himself out of the boar's way, and brings his machete slashing down across its flanks.

The boar whirls with frightening speed, but by that time, I have drawn my sword and sliced deep into the animals back, shearing through flesh and bone. The pig squeals and whirls', gouging me with one of the deadly tusks, but its spine has been severed and its hind legs give out before it could do any real damage. Jace steps up and hits it again, landing a blow directly behind its skull, opening a deep gash in its neck, and the boar stumbles. Raising my blade, I bring it down with all my strength, aiming for the gaping wound Jace had already opened. The Katana edge slices cleanly through the pigs burly neck, cutting through spine and flesh and severing its head from its shoulders. The ugly creature collapses to the ground and rolls over, kicking the air a final time before, finally, becoming still.

I slump against a tree, letting my sword arm drop, watching as Jace sinks to the ground. I can see his muscles shacking with adrenaline, the sweat running down his brow and cheeks. I hear my heart beating a mile a minute, thudding loudly in my chest.

"Oh, my god." Jordan staggers forward, shaking as well. There is an arrow fitted to his bowstring, but everything had happened so fast that he hadn't had time to shoot it. "Are you two all right? I'm sorry, I couldn't… it just came so… out of nowhere."

Jace waves it off and stands, grabbing a hanging branch to steady him. "It's all right," he says, holstering his gun. "It's done. It's over, and everyone is fine. Clary?" he looks at me. "You're okay right? I thought I saw it get you, did it?"

I look down at my leg and the blood making my black leggings look even darker, but I shake my head, I can deal with it. "I'm fine."

"More than fine." Maia's voice is awed and jealous all at once. "Damn, girl. You cut its head clean off! You betta come hunting with us more often."

I smile at her but am suddenly away of Jace, watching me with a thoughtful expression on his face. "You were incredible," he says softly, then seems to catch himself. "I mean… that sword must be crazy sharp to cut through its neck like that!"

I smile and try to move but my leg screams in pain and I stumble, catching on to Maia's arm for support. Jace steps toward me, looking worried, but my attention suddenly shifts to something else. A sound of rustling; too quiet to be nearby but distinct enough for me to notice.

"Hello?" calls a weak, unfamiliar voice through the trees. "Please help me, are you still alive?"

_Authors note: thank you for your reviews they make my day. Sorry for another cliff-hanger I just couldn't resist, this is a really long one already after all. I hope to be updating this Wednesday but if not it will be on Sunday as usual. Love y'all xx_


	11. Chapter 11

We all jerk upright, pointing weapons into the darkness. "Where are you?" Jace calls, easing back to stand with Maia and me. "Show yourself."

"I can't," the voice replies. "The boar… my leg… I need help please."

I peer into the forest, tracking the voice by sound, trying to pinpoint its location in the darkness. "There," I mutter to Jace, pointing to a vague shape through the trees. A person is huddled at the trunk of a large oak, hidden among the needles. His voice sounds like fear and pain, and I know we have to help him.

As if reading my mind Jordan whispers to us. "We have to help this guy, he's clearly hurt." We all nod in agreement and approach the tree cautiously, weapons still out and ready. The dark shape comes into focus; an old man – maybe 50 or 60- with a short, grey beard and dirty blue overalls. He watches us with glazed eyes, his jaw clenched in a grimace of pain.

"The pig?" he whispers.

"It's gone, its dead," Jace answers him. "Don't worry you don't have to be frightened of us, we are here to help you."

"Thank god." The man slumps against the bark in relief, his face a mask of hope and pain. "Damn pig caught me off guard; I'd be dead if you hadn't come along."

"Do you have a safe place to go?" Jordan asks, kneeling beside him. He nods.

"There are several of us living in a compound about two miles west of here." He pointed with a blood-stained hand and Jordan stood.

"All right," Jace says. "Maia, go back to the others. Tell Valentine what's happened. Warn them that there are probably walkers around as he's probably attracted all of the dead in a ten mile radius. Jordan go with her, keep an eye out for walkers. Clary," he continues, nodding to the injured man, "help me get him home."

I frown, my logical mind questioning why I, the smallest in the group, have been chosen to help practically lift an injured man who is twice my weight and almost twice my height. Jace, misreading my frown of hesitation for one of unwillingness, steps towards me.

"We have to help him Clary. We can't leave him here." He says earnestly. "That wound looks deep, and he's lost a lot of blood."

"I know." I practically snap. "So why am I helping you. I'm far too small for him, I'm too weak, and I'll be too slow." I stare desperately at Jordan and Maia's retreating backs, wishing one of them could help instead. Feeling useless I look down at my feet, my face goes red with embarrassment.

"Clary," Jace says, steeping towards me. "You are more than capable. I've seen what you can do! If you are as weak as you say you are then you wouldn't have been able to survive so long on your own. You severed the boars head clean of for goodness sake! Please, we are running out of time, do this for me." A voice in my head reminds me of how mad I was at him and I think: _if he knew what happened, if he knew what you did to Luke and Simon, he would know how weak you truly are. _I ignore the voice with a swallow and focus on the task at hand. This man needs us.

"Okay," I say, my voice shaky. "How are we gunna do this?"

Jace bends to help the wounded man, shouldering half of his weight and lifting him to his feet. The wounded man gasps and leans on the younger man, keeping his weight of his hurt leg. I rush to the man's other side and help by shouldering some of his weight.

"Thanks for this," the man pants as we begin the agonizingly slow hobble into the dark woods. "The names Starkweather- Hodge Starkweather. My family owns these lands, or at least, they did back before the plague."

"What were you doing so far from home, Mr. Starkweather?" Jace asks, gritting his teeth as the man stumbles. I brace myself, keeping all of us upright. "Especially so late, when the walkers are around?"

Hodge Starkweather manages a short, embarrassed laugh. "My damn bird got through the fence," he admits, shaking his head. "I keep it in a fenced cage in the daytime. I had it a long time so, when it found a way out, I had to follow. I didn't mean to be out so late, but it got darker quicker than I expected."

"You're lucky to be alive," Jace mutters. "If that pig had bitten you a few times instead of just gouging your leg, you'd have much more to worry about than just finding a bird."

I feel him go very still under my arm. "Yeah," he mumbles, not looking at us. "It was a lucky thing."

Miraculously, despite the obvious trail of blood and scent of gore in the air, we have managed to avoid any sudden walker attacks. Breaking free of the trees, we find ourselves at the edge of a large clearing, encircled with a barbed-wire fence. The remnants of a barn and rusting tractor sit within it.

In the middle of the clearing, a wall of corrugated metal, wood and cement surrounds a low hill. Bonfires have been set a few feet from the perimeter, lighting the darkness with heat and smoke, and I can see lights and other structures behind the wall.

We ease Hodge through the barbed wire, taking care with his leg, and start across the clearing. Halfway across, a shout comes from somewhere up ahead, and someone up ahead shines a light in my eyes. Hodge waves shouts back, waving his arms, and the light disappears. A few minutes later a rusty groan can be heard and a gate opens and two people, a man and a woman, rush towards us.

I tense, out of habit, that and because the man is carrying a loaded rifle, though it isn't pointed at us. The man is lanky and raw-boned, but it is the woman I pay the most attention to. Her brown hair is in a ponytail, and though she doesn't look very old, a few grey strands poke out from the sides. She might have been pretty once, but now her face is creased with lines, her mouth pinched and severe. And her eyes tell me that, without a doubt, she is the person in charge.

"Hodge!" cries the woman, flinging herself at us. "Oh thank goodness! We thought you were dead." And despite her words, she looks as if she wants to slap him. "What were you doing, going into the forest on your own, you great damn fool? Never mind! I'm just glad you're alive." She fixes her familiar deep blue eyes on me and I can't help but feel a sense of Deja-vu. "I see we have these people to thank for that."

"Be nice to them, Amatis," The old man gasps, making a feeble attempt to smile. "They saved my life. Killed a rabid pig that had been bitten by walkers without batting an eyelash."

"Did they now?" Amatis asks, her eyes searching us coolly, as Hodge is taken from us by the man and helped into the compound. "You don't say." Her sharp no-nonsense gaze fixes on us. "My name is Amatis," she says briskly, "and anyone who helps one of us is welcome here. Besides, you look like you need some patching up," she says, glancing at the graze that the boar left on my leg.

"Thank you," I say solemnly. "I'm Clary, and that's Jace."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you." The woman says, her eyes looking us up and down. I start to feel uncomfortable when they linger a little too long on my face. "How old are you anyway- gods your young- seventeen? Eighteen?"

"About that." Jace replies.

"Well you are extremely lucky, travelling through the forest alone without running into those demons. Better keep each other safe, they can be quite the menace round these parts."

_Menace,_ I think._ Like raccoons and rodents are menaces? A rabid boar nearly took a man's leg off._

"What are you doing around here anyway?" she asks us.

"Well actually, we were hunting, our group needs to eat." Jace says, tone business like but not cold.

"There are more of you? Well goodness, they can't stay out there at night! Larry, David!" She calls, beckoning two men down to the gate. "There are more people in the woods," she announces sternly as the men scramble out, each carrying a rifle. "As soon as the sun comes out, find them and bring them here. Where did you say your group was?"

Jace looks reluctant, unwilling to give up the location of the others or hesitant to accept help from complete strangers. But I glance to the sky and see it beginning to lighten, and my nerves jangle a warning that we can't protect them right now.

"About three miles south from here," I say, ignoring Jace's frown at me. I meet Amatis' worried gaze. "There's about a dozen more out there, though half of them are kids. You might want to convince the leader though, he can be stubborn."

"Well, what are you two waiting for?" she scowls at the two men, who immediately scurry back into the compound. "Now," Amatis smiles at us, though her face looks as if she hadn't done it in a while. "I'm sure you two are exhausted. I'll show you where you can rest, and if you can wait and hour or two, breakfast will be ready." She blinks, as if something just occurred to her. "Oh, goodness, I guess I should go help Martha with the food this morning, shouldn't I? We are going to have a lot of guests. This way, if you would."

"Why did you do that?" Jace whispers as we follow the tall, slim woman into the compound. "These people don't need more mouths to feed. Also, how do we know we can trust them?"

"I'm tired, Jace." I don't look at him as I say it. "It's nearly morning, and we've had no sleep. I'm hungry, I'm covered in blood- both my own and someone else's, and I really don't want to go back into the woods again, and for once I would like to sleep in a bed, instead of the cold, hard ground. I'm sorry if I'm being selfish but I don't think these people are a threat. I feel like we can trust Amatis." I think about the familiarity of her eyes, and the shape of her cheekbones, and her rough voice. "first sign of trouble and I promise, I will do whatever I can to get us out of here, but for now, let's at least have breakfast."

I smile weakly at him and he sighs, raking his fingers through his golden hair. "Valentine isn't going to like this," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Why am I not surprised?"


	12. Chapter 12

_Authors note: Hey, im really sorry that i haven't posted in a while, ive had exams and i just haven't had the time. i mean mostly its because im a bit lazy, but those are reasons too. _

_Im trying to write longer chapters because then i feel as though the longer they are, the more i can tell you about the characters back stories and emotions. So this is a chapter that i really like because i feel like there's quite a bit of clace feels. I hope you enjoy it. I will update soon i promise. _

_Thank you for your reviews and please keep reviewing, i want to know what i am doing badly and well. :) xx_

When I awake the next afternoon I feel… different. Not in a bad way or in a way that nags at me, like something I have to worry about. But something had definitely changed. Then it hits me. I am actually clean.

I throw back the quilt and sit up, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back. My skin feels tingly and soft, probably from the bath I had this morning, before I went to bed. Soaking in the tub had been hot, clean bliss. Never, not in the whole of life after the plague had I had a proper soak like that. Getting rained on or falling into a muddy, churning river doesn't count. And there is soap, something I have only dreamed about. Hodge makes his own soap from lye, sand, goats milk and honey, and I had used the strange yellow lump to scrub of the caked layers of grime and blood, until I could finally see the pale colour of my own skin.

I stand, taking in the small room. It had probably been a child's room once, if the cheery sun quilt and faded cloud wallpaper are any indication. For a moment, I wonder what became of the child whose room I am borrowing, but I quickly abandon that train of thought.

I gaze around and spot my clothes, lying clean and neatly folded atop the dresser. My katana lies on top of the pile, the dangerous cherry on top. I slip into my clothes and buckle the sword to my back, vowing not to be separated from it ever again, not even a couple of hours. Pulling a coat over my shoulders, I turn to leave when there is a knock at my door.

"Clary?" comes a voice from the other side. "Are you up yet? It's Jace."

"It's open," I call back.

The door creaks as it swings open, revealing a very clean, smiling Jace on the other side, holding a torch. He wears a white shirt and slightly baggy jeans, and his blonde hair feathers out over his eyes and collar, looking very soft and touchable. His gun, machete, hatchet and various other weapons are still in place, but he looks more relaxed than I've ever seen him.

"Oh, wow," Jace says quietly, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Look at that. There is actually girl under all the blood and dirt. Though you're a bit paler than I was expecting."

I snort and reply, "Seen you?"

He laughs good-naturedly. "Come on. I just got up, but I think Valentine and the others are down in the barn. They arrived a few hours after we went to sleep. At least that's what Martha said- after telling me she was washing my unmentionables and that I could have them back tomorrow." He wrinkles his nose adorably. "I think the old woman was coming on to me."

"Okay I'm just going to erase that image from my mind now." I give him a mock-horrified look as we start down the corridor. "For the record, the words _old woman_ and _unmentionables_ should never be in the same sentence."

He grins as we make our way down the stairs and through the shadowy halls of the ancient farmhouse. It truly is a monstrous old building, two stories tall, with high windows, wooden floors and a roof that has been patched over many, many times. But it serves it purpose I suppose; despite its ugly layout it keeps a roof over the people's heads.

"Where is everyone?" I ask as we hit the ground floor without running into any of the clans numerous members. Last night, Amatis had told me that almost a sixth of their small village had ended up living in this compound. I have only seen about 6 people around so far, and I suspect that there are many more, sleeping in their rooms. Where is everyone now? I hear banging noises coming from the kitchen, but other than that the old farmhouse is quiet.

Jace shrugs. "I think most everyone is outside, taking care of animals, finishing work in the fields, and making sure the wall is safe. Martha told me that they keep goats and sheep in the outhouses, and they take them into the fields at day."

"Jace?" a frail, reedy voice calls from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

Jace grimaces and ducks behind a wall, turning off the torch as a small white-haired lady comes out of the kitchen with a frying pan in one bony claw. She blinks when she sees me; thick glasses and toothless gums making her look like a lizard.

"Oh," she says, not able to hide her disappointment. "It's you. The girl."

"Clary." I provide.

"Yes of course," Martha wasn't even looking at me anymore, rheumy eyes scanning the candlelit room. "I thought I heard that boy, have you seen him?"

"No sorry." I say, trying not to look at Jace in the corner of my eye. I can see him shaking his head profusely. "I don't know where he is."

"Oh pity." Martha shakes her head and sighs. "He must be in the barn with the others. Such a handsome lad that one. Don't you think he would make a wonderful husband?"

"Yeah." I shift uncomfortable and feel myself blush at Jace's grin.

"Well if you see him, let him know that I made him a special pie. Boys like pie. Dinner will be ready in an hour."

"I will," I mutter as she vanishes back into the kitchen. I glance at Jace, hoping he hadn't picked up on my unease. He shrugs, and I raise an eyebrow.

"The mighty hunter," I quip as we sneak out the back door, escaping into the yard. "He can take down vicious zombies and rampaging boars, but one old lady can make him flee in terror."

"One scary old lady," he corrects me, looking relieved to be out of the house. "You don't see the way she looks at me- like she wants to eat me alive. And she told me when I got up, she said-_you're so cute I could put you in a pie._ Tell me that is not the most terrifying thing you have ever heard." His voice climes a few octaves, turning shrill and breathy. "Today for dessert, we have apple pie, blueberry pie and Jace pie."

We laugh together, our voices bouncing off of the farmhouse walls.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Jace says, his face and voice turning serious. "I shouldn't have pried into your personal life. I was just worried about you."

I sigh in response and look at my feet, trying to decide what to say. "Thank you, and I'm sorry that I overreacted. I just… I guess I just don't like talking about my past, or thinking about it either to be honest. I don't mean to exclude you from anything, it's not that I don't trust you it's just…"

And then I freeze. Because I can't think of a reason to not tell Jace other than one I can't say out loud. I can't tell Jace because then he will hate me. "I just can't tell you certain things. I am not a nice person."

"I don't care." Jace says, kicking the ground boyishly. "Being nice doesn't keep you alive, not in a world like this, being nice doesn't kill zombies, or feed the kids, or get us water. Being nice doesn't get you anywhere, not anymore. So I am glad that you are not nice, because I… we need you. You're no use to me dead." We have stopped walking by now and he is looking at me. His golden eyes are dancing passionately as he talks and I think I realise why everyone likes him, why Alec was in love with him. He is hard not to love.

"Simon was my best friend." I blurt out. "He and I escaped with my mother's ex-boyfriend. We left New York in Luke's van and tried to run, but we didn't get very far. Something happened to them, and it was my fault."

"What about your mum?" Jace asks me tentatively. He looks down at me, his eyes gentle and sad; his hand is on my arm comfortingly.

"I don't know," I reply, because it's the truth. "I don't know where my mum is; have no idea in fact. But knowing this world, she is probably dead; I accepted that a long time ago. She wasn't with us when the world went to shit and so she wasn't with us when we tried to escape." I shrug, batting my eyelids methodically to stop from crying.

"There was nothing you could have done about that. It's not like you could have gone looking for her, everywhere was panic, don't beat yourself up about it. And who knows, maybe she is alive- stranger things have happened."

"Maybe," I say, although I am not convinced by his words. We have arrived at the barn and, stepping inside, the smell of meat stew fills our noses welcomingly. We both stand and breath it all in, I thank my lucky stars that we found this place and that generous people still exist.

I follow Jace over to where Valentine and Amatis stand. Amatis' back is to us but she turns when she hears us coming. Her facial expression is very odd, a mixture between sadness and shock. Valentine stands as stiffly as ever beside her. His face is cold and void of any expression but his body is rigid and painfully straight, as if he has been flattened out.

"You didn't tell me that the leader of your group was Valentine Morgenstern." Amatis' voice sounds pained and hollow. Her eyes are fuelled with anger.

"Do you two know each other?" I ask.

"Oh for sure we know each other, haven't seen the git in years though." Amatis replies, threading her hand through her hair.

"We met a very long time ago, when I was dating her brother's best friend." Valentine remarks coldly.

I freeze when Valentine says the word 'dating'. I can't imagine such a strange and cold man could ever love anyone, or be loved in that way. I'm not even sure if Jace loves him and Jace is his adopted son. I wonder if Valentines ex-girlfriend (it makes me queasy even thinking about him in a relationship) is still alive. I wonder why they broke up, if it was before or after the plague, and I wonder what she was like. Maybe this woman, Valentines ex-girlfriend and Amatis' brothers best friend is the reason why he is as cold as he is today; maybe this woman (or possibly man if that's the way he swings) made him mean.

From Jace's shocked expression it's not hard to tell that this is news to him as well.

"Speaking of your brother, where is he" Valentine asks poisonously.

"I'm afraid you just missed him," Amatis sighed and her complexion softened. "He's not the same man as he was when you knew him. He's been through a lot, suffered more than most. These past couple of years just seemed to get harder and harder for him; he spent most of the time in his room, barely ate anything. The poor man was slowly going insane, locked up in that room of his.

He went on like that for a long time, until one day he came down to breakfast and announced that he had had enough of his room and was going on a quest to find some mystical land without any zombies."

Both valentines and Jace's heads snapped up. Their eyes seemed to gleam with excitement, and maybe even hunger- longing. Could this land that Amatis' brother was in search of be…? Utopia?

"Could you tell us anything else about this 'mystical land'?" Jace asked carefully. Amatis looked at him pityingly.

"Oh child, it doesn't exist- just the imaginations of a mad man based on rumors. Don't be getting your hopes up."

"Answer his question woman." Amatis' eyes narrowed and she shot Valentine a look of pure hatred. Clearly they were not the best of friends.

"Well since you asked so nicely," she said her voice oozing icy sarcasm, "he heard about it from a traveler who came through about a month ago. The man said that he had come from a village nearby and after their village got rampaged by the walkers they all headed to a place they referred to as The Promise Lands. No one listened to the man; we all passed it off as hopeless gossip. But my brother…- he always was one for a good story. He gobbled it up. Claiming he was going in search for it, he left a week after. Haven't heard from Luke since." She looked a bit sad as she said that, and her shoulders slouched. We all looked away as she sheepishly wiped her damp eyes.

"He might not be dead," I said, trying to comfort her, "Luke could just be…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. And then I realised what I had just said. Luke. My breath caught in my thought. Could it be? No, there's no way that Amatis' brother and my Luke are the same person.

I look at Amatis again. At her sharp features, the colour of her eyes. I think I finally know why she looked so familiar. Why her eyes gave me a sense of Deja vu. Because her eyes, those grey-blue orbs, are the same as Luke's. She is Luke's sister.

I gasp. My heart starts beating really fast. My breaths come out as pants. My head is a whirl wind of thoughts, of emotions. All at once I feel happy, sad, scared, hopeful, guilty, but most of all relieved. Because this means that Luke is alive. This means that all those years ago when I left him and Simon… I didn't kill him.

"Luke… isn't dead," I exclaim. I try to laugh but it turns into a sob and suddenly I am crying. Torrents of tears cascade from my eyes and I run outside, I can't let them see me cry, not like this.

I run until my legs can't run anymore and then I sink into the grass behind the main building. My sobs rack my body, and I shiver and shake. I cry for Luke, I cry for Simon, I cry for my mum. I cry for everybody that I have ever left behind. I cry for the group I have found. I cry that max and the twins have to grow up in this terrifying world. I cry that they don't have any parents, that they are alone. And finally I cry for myself. My sobs are selfish, loud and self-indulgent but I need them. I haven't cried in so long that it feels as if I am never going to stop.

Jace finds me as my sobs begin to run out. He doesn't say anything, he just sits next to me and I feel his body heat mingle with mine. I rest my head on his shoulder and he grabs on to my hand, holding it in his. We sit like that until the sun has gone down and the stars come out.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Authors note: hey guys, sorry that I've been kind of inactive recently, I don't want to make excuses but I've had exams. However, those are all done now (woop woop) and so I have tons more time to write and I have big things planned. Anyway, to make up for it this chapter is ultra long- the longest yet. It also focuses a lot more on back story and character development. Please continue to review and tell me what you think/ what I can do to improve. Hope you are all having a fabulous summer :)_**

_The water carries my hair around my head, teasing it like seaweed, tossing it to and fro in the current. I look around. The world is clearer under water. Everything is slower, sharper. Everything calm. _

_A man approaches me. He is tall, yet thin. His cheeks hollow and eyes sunken. He looks like the dead, not the kind that walks, but an actual corpse. He doesn't breathe, not under the sea; it reminds me that I do not breathe either. This fact does not alarm me, I am not scared. It feels natural to me like breathing is an unnatural thing to be doing._

_As the man gets closer, the current starts to get stronger. And a once gentle tease is turned to a desperate tug. A whirlwind of water starts around me and I am the eye of a storm. The man reaches me, towers above me in fact, yet still I feel nothing. He reaches out a callused looking hand towards me and I watch it approach- physically incapable of looking away. _

_Suddenly he touches my arm and all of my repressed emotions finally hit me. Panic. Fear. Guilt. Pain. I have to get away from him, I have to. So I start to swim. Kicking my legs and thrashing at the water with my arms, I attempt to swim away. But I can't breathe. He clamps onto my foot, holding me back. The water steals my clasp of control, drowning me, holding me down. The water that once held me in its gentle current has turned against me; betrayed me._

_I try to draw a breath and instead let the water in. My lungs fill, the treacherous water swirling inside me, ripping me apart from the inside out. The man smiles. _

David and Larry, the two older farmhands, showed up in the morning and explained what we needed to do. First, and most important, is guarding the wall, the barrier that surrounds the compound and keeps the walkers at bay. Platforms and walkways have been constructed along the inside of the wall, making it easy to move around the perimeter, and giving the guards on patrol a good view of any incoming danger. Not only do the platforms need to manned, but the fires outside the wall need to be kept blazing.

Jace, izzy, Alec and I have been drafted to help with the night watch. The job initials standing pretty still for hours on end, staying at high alert and holding a heavy rifle. Considering my considerate lack of rest the last couple of nights, I am not looking forward to it. I would have slept well last night if it wasn't for the nightmare. I get these dreams almost every night now, and in everyone someone dies. Sometimes me, but usually someone else who is being killed by me, usually someone I care about. It has gotten to the point that I fear sleep, almost more than I fear the walking dead. My subconscious seems to have turned against me and it shows me as a monster; I refuse to see any similarities between myself and the hellish me in my dreams.

"Nice," Jace mutters, bringing me from my thoughts. He is gazing down at the barrel of the rifle just handed to him, swiping it over the fields below. We have taken the platform closest to the forest, where we had come out the other night, and Jace is kneeling with his elbows resting against the railing. "I used to have a rifle like this. Scoped too. It made shooting game a lot easier, till one day I was teaching Isabelle to hunt and it fell right out of the tree, breaking in 3 different ways." He grimaces and lowered the gun "Valentine… was not happy with me."

I wince in sympathy. "How long do you think we'll be here?" I ask, leaning against the railing, hoping the rickety planks will support my weight. "It's not like Valentine to stop for so long. Why is he even considering staying a few nights? Especially after receiving information about The Promised Land." After hearing that Luke is searching for the Utopia, this magical land that has no walkers, as well as us; I can't help but think it's weird. I have never actually believed that there is such a place but now I am starting to have doubts. Luke was… is a smart guy, he wouldn't go after something that is just a whim would he? But having said that, I haven't seen him in nearly 10 years and people change, perhaps he has gone crazy as Amatis seemed to have suggested.

"Valentine has told me that he wants to stay for a little while longer, just until he can get all the information he can. And then we are off." Jace replies. He looks down at me from his perch with the gun and smiles reassuringly, "if you are worried about Luke, don't be. If he's found the promised lands then we will find him."

I am about to ask him what would happen if Luke hadn't reached the Promised lands when a movement out in the field catches my attention. "Jace," I murmur, pointing towards the woods. "Walkers."

Jace straightens out, bringing up the rifle, while I watch the creatures creep closer, their awful rotten stench drifting over the breeze. There is three of them, pale and emaciated, moving across the field, straight towards the wall. They move slowly, sometimes hunched over, sometimes dead straight, however despite the movement in their bodies their heads keep dead still. Their eyes, which I can just see from this distance, are emotionless and dead. Looking at them makes my skin crawl. Two of them are completely naked, but one still wears the tattered remains of a floral dress, its colour faded and destroyed.

"Walkers!" Jace calls, his voice echoing through the compound. Instantly, David, Larry, Izzy and Alec jump down from their perches around us and sprint in our direction. They clamber up, the platform creaking under their weight and I scramble over to make room for them all. Jace drops to his knee and levels his gun at the walkers, but Larry holds up his hand.

"No, we don't waste ammo." He warns, eyes narrowed as he peers past the some and flames below. "They are too far out still, and it's nearly impossible to kill them cleanly from this distance. Let 'em come closer, they will just keep walking into the fires, and hopefully kill themselves. When they are down you can start firing at them. We might not need to waste any bullets at all."

The walkers keep coming, gazing at the wall with a blank, hungry expression. Jace and Izzy keep their guns trained on them as the walking dead gradually edge closer. Beside me, Jace makes a noise that is almost a growl. I stare at him in amazement. His shoulders are stiff, tense, and his eyes glitter with hatred. "Come on," he mutters, and the ice cold rage in his voice shocks me. "Come a little closer, just a few more steps."

"Easy, boy." Larry soothes. "Don't be too eager. We don't want to attract more of 'em in the commotion."

Jace doesn't answer, his entire focus is on the dead below. He seems different now; the smiling, easy-going boy I knew is gone. In his place stands a cold, ruthless stranger, with eyes of ice, his face frozen into a flinty mask. This boy glows with hatred and malice, not with gold like my Jace does. Watching him, I feel a stab of apprehension. In that moment he looks very much like Valentine.

The walkers have reached the fire, and keep walking. Even as the flames swallow them up. We all watch as their dilapidated skin begins to melt and burn. They smell bad ordinarily, but now I can taste them as they burn in the air around us. Their foulness seeps into my mouth, my nose, settles in my hair. Bust most chilling of all is that they just keep going. The walkers, with their skin alight, bodies ablaze, feel no pain, do not stop; that dead, hungry look remains in their eyes. Two of the walkers fall to the ground, knocked out by the fire that has swallowed hem whole. The last one still walks to the wall, and with a nod from Larry, Jace ends it with a clean shot straight through its head.

I watch the tension be released from my friends bodies, as we all straighten, lowering their guns.

"There will be more," Larry says, not weary or resigned. Just a statement, a simple fact. "There always is." He taps Alec's shoulder. "Come on, then, Alec was it? You and your sister better get back to your posts. Sometimes the buggers creep up on us from behind when we aren't lookin', sneaky bastards."

Alec and Izzy climb down from the platform and head off to their own with Larry and David quickly doing the same. Jace sets down the rifle and leans next to me on the railing, our shoulders barely touching as we gaze over the fields.

"They have a nice life here," he says, and his voice isn't mocking or sarcastic. It is almost wistful, envious. I snort and cross my arms, hiding the unease of a moment before.

"What, you mean with the wall and being penned in like sheep, and the constant threat of walker invasion?"

"They have a home here," Jace retorts, giving me a sideways look. "They have a family. They've carved out their own lives, and yeah, it might not be completely perfect or safe, but at least they have something that belongs to them." He sighs and rakes his fingers through his golden hair. "Not like us, constantly wondering around, never knowing what we'll find or what comes next. Not having a home to go back to."

The longing in his voice is palpable. I feel his shoulder against mine, our arms brushing together, the heat radiating from him like there is fire trapped beneath his skin. We don't look at each other, just keep gazing out at the looming forest. "What was home for you?" I ask softly, "Before all this, before you started looking for Eden. Where did you live?"

"A bunch of places," Jace says sounding distant. "I didn't really know my parents, they died in a house fire when I was 18 months old. And from then onwards I was always moving around, from orphanage to orphanage, care home to care home. I guess I must have been a difficult child to love because no one could stand to stay with me for longer than 6 months. My life went on like that until I was about 8; at which point I met Valentine.

He was working at the local church of my most recent orphanage, the care home was an awful place, run down and stingy, mould ridden and just poorly managed to be honest. One Christmas a group of carollers from the church came to sing for us kids, but unfortunately the pianist got cramp in their hands so couldn't continue to play. I knew the songs so I offered to step in for her. And that is how I met Valentine. We met up a few times after that and he soon filled out the legal work and adopted me officially."

I tried to picture Valentine going Christmas carolling, his cold heart melting when he saw the poor orphan boy playing the piano for them, even though they were supposed to be playing for him. The thought made me simultaneously despairing and joyous as I thought of Jace's little face looking up at the first man to ever choose him.

"And from then onwards home was a little yellow house, with a tire swing in the front yard and Valentine pushing me on it." He blinks, giving me an embarrassed look. "Sorry to bore you with my life story. It's pretty boring. Nothing special."

I give him a shocked expression. My whole life before the apocalypse had been plain, ordinary. Just me, my mum, Luke and my best friend Simon. I never met my dad, he died before I was born, but I'd always felt complete without him. I couldn't mourn a father I had never met; and besides I had Luke, who I had always considered my father even if we weren't blood related. But my mother still missed my dad. My REAL dad. She had a little silver box by her bed which I would occasionally catch her weeping silently over, the initials J.C. were carved into it. Inside the box was a small lock of platinum white/blonde hair. The same colour as the hair in the portrait of my father that my mother had painted for him.

It was strange to hear Jace talking about moving around because my home had always been in one place: a small apartment in Brooklyn which I lived in with my mum. Before the world turned to shit I couldn't have imagined a life without that place, those people. I guess that's one of the main things that the apocalypse has forced us to do; to live the unimaginable.

I look at Jace, finally properly appreciating what awful shit this beautiful boy has had to endure in his life. The thoughts of how unfair it all is almost make my cry and I have to bat my eyelids repetitively to stop my eyes from blurring anymore. "Tell me about your little yellow house with Valentine," I say.

He nods, pausing for a moment before he starts to talk, as if he is collecting his memories. "I don't remember much," he begins, gazing out into the darkness. "There was a community down in the hollow of the mountain range. It was fairly small, everyone knew each other. We were so isolated, we didn't even stress too much about the zombies or apocalypse and other things happening outside our bubble of a village. So when the walkers did come, no one was prepared for it. Except Valentine."

Jace stops and takes a quiet breath, his eyes far away and dark. "They came to our house first," he muses. "I remember them scratching at the windows, tearing down the walls to get in. Valentine hid me in a closet, and I listened to him plough down about twenty of them without getting a single injury." He shivers, but his voice is calm, as if this had happened to someone else, as if he is not the boy in the story.

"The next thing I remember is Valentine opening the door and standing before me, staring down at me. His body covered in blood."

"Is that town where the rest of your group comes from?"

"Mostly." Jace gave me a sideway glance. "There were more of us at first, and some like Jordan we picked up along the way. But, yes, the majority of us came from that town. After the zombie attack, people were scared. They didn't know what to do. So they started listening to Valentine, coming to him for help, pleading for his advice. In time, it became a weekly thing, where we would sit in church for an hour or so and listen to him talk. Valentine didn't want to be a preacher again, as he belives that god was here but has abandoned the world, and he told people this. And after a while, he sort of… gained a following."

"But… if Valentine believes God has abandoned the world, that He's not here anymore." I give Jace a puzzled look." Surely that theory didn't go down so well."

"You'd be surprised." Jace shrugs. "People were desperate for some sort of guidance, and it wasn't as bleak as you might think. Valentine believes that, even though God is no longer watching us, we have to keep fighting the evil while we are here. That we can't let ourselves become tainted by the demons. That it's the only way we have a shot at eternity when we die."

"How cheerful."

He smiles faintly. "He did have some rather strong opposition, but it didn't seem to bother him. Valentine was never really attached to the town, not like me. Now that I think about it, I don't think he ever meant to stay long. Not with what he was teaching me."

"What did he teach you?"

"Everything I know- how to shoot, how to fight. We would go out to the hills behind the town, in the daylight, of course, and he would show me how to survive in the wilderness. I shot my first rabbit at the age of 12. Cried the whole way through cleaning it." He shoots me an embarrassed smile.

"But," he continues, "that evening, our neighbour took that skinny carcass and made a stew out of it, and we sat around our kitchen table and ate it all. Valentine didn't show it, but I knew he was proud of me." Jace chuckles, self-conscious, and shakes his head. "That was home to me for a while, as crazy as it sounds. Not this endless wandering. Not a faceless city that we might never find." He sighs heavily, glancing back at the barn, and the burden on his face is almost overwhelming. "So anyway," he finishes, shaking his melancholy as he looks back to the woods, "that's why I think Amatis and her community have a good life here. Walkers and walls and fire and everything." He finally looks at me then, smirking and defiant. "So, go ahead- tell me I'm a sentimental idiot if you want, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"You're not," I reply. "I think you are too hard on yourself, and that Valentine shouldn't expect you to keep everyone happy and alive and safe, but I don't think you're an idiot."

He smiles, a real one this time, though his voice is teasing. "So, what do you think I am?"

_Brave_ I think at once _brave, beautiful, selfless, incredible, heroic- and much too good for this world. It'll break you in the end, if you keep going like this. Good things never last._

I don't say any of these things, of course. I just shrug and mutter, "It doesn't matter what I think."

Jace's voice is soft, almost a whisper. "It matters to me."

I look at him. His eyes are a pool of gold in the moonlight, his hair a delicious blonde. His mouth is captured in a smirk and I can't stop staring at his face. Slowly, he lets go of the railing and leans in, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my cheek.

His graceful fingers graze my skin, and warmth shoots through me like an electric jolt. I hear his breath coming hot and fast against my cheek. His smell is everywhere, overwhelming: heat and blood and life, and a distant, earthy smell that is uniquely him. I imagine kissing him, meeting my lips with his, trailing my fingers through his luscious golden hair, and finally tasting the fire within him.

"Jace!"

Isabelle's voice shatters the silence, jerking us apart and bringing me to my senses. Horrified, I rise and step to the edge of the platform, facing the wind. What the hell am I doing? What did I think kissing Jace was going to achieve other than pain and misery for us both? I mentally scold myself on my own stupidity. I can't let myself have feelings for him- love him, even. Maybe, if the world wasn't how it is, then just maybe we would have worked out but not like this. I can't allow myself to get close to him because the closer you get to someone, the more it will destroy you when they are inevitably gone.

I shudder and take a step away from him, stifling my desire to turn around, to go back to him, to finish what we started. I think back to our almost kiss and have to wonder: what would have happened, would we carry on like normal, or something more?

"Jace!" Isabelle calls again, oblivious to the scene up top, "Amatis wants me to remind you that the fire outside the wall needs to be fed. The woodpile is back behind the water cistern."

"I'll go," I say quickly as Jace leans over the railing to call back. He stops and gives me a puzzled look, but I turn away toward the ladder before he can say anything.

"Clary," Jace says softly behind me, stopping me. I glance up at him from the ladder, and find him looking at me with a sad, confused expression. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have… I thought…" he trails off with a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Don't go?" He asks giving me a hopeful smile. "I'll behave I promise."

I really want to stay, which is why I have to go. "I just need some room." I say to him, and continue to climb down the ladder. I walk past Isabelle who gives me a strange look as I pass her, but she doesn't say anything to me.

I look back to see if Jace is following me. I have to remind myself that it is a good thing when I see that he isn't.


	14. Chapter 14

_Authors note: Hey guys :), how was all of your summers? mine was very productive and I now have a fully detailed plan and chapter layout. Now that know exactly where i am going and how i am going to end, please expect more regular updates (although don't hate me if im sometimes a bit off schedule)._

_Its better this way_ I tell myself, passing the barn. Soft murmurs and contented bleats come from within; the rest of the group are taking advantage of the unexpected stop, probably relived to not be hiking through the walker infested woods. _That was way to close,_ I continue, hurrying past before anyone can see me. _What would you have done if you kissed? You think he could like you, if he knew how you left Simon and Luke? _A mental snort. _Don't care for people, not here, not anymore. You'll just hurt them, or they will hurt you._

I come to a tiny woodshed, really nothing more than a three sided wooden shed with a tin roof. Inside, stacked high, are piles upon piles of split logs, and I load several into the rusty wheelbarrow sitting nearby, when I hear a low moan.

Warily, I put a hand on my sword and wait,unmoving. It comes again, the soft helpless sound of somebody in pain. The sound is coming from the other side of the woodshed.

Still keeping a hand on the hilt of my Katana, I edge around the building, ready to draw my weapon if necessary. When I see what is making the noise, however, I drop my arm_. _There is no need.

A large iron cage stands at the back of the woodshed. The bars are thick and close together, though far enough apart for me to see inside. The door is barred in two places from the outside, padlocked shut and wrapped in chains. Even the floor of the cage has iron bars running along it, separating the prisoner from the earth below him. A thin layer of straw has been spread over the floor, it partially absorbs the smell of urine, blood and gore.

Huddled under a blanket, curled up in the corner closest to the woodshed, a familiar, thin man with grey streaked hair looks up at me. I remember him immediately from the time me and Jace saved him in the woods.

I blink. "Hodge?" I whisper, confirming my doubts that he is the man we had dragged from the woods. "What are you doing in there?" I ask, appalled. I can smell the disease on him, the torn flesh under the bandages. He is still badly hurt and needs to be in bed, or at least a room that he can be looked after in. "Who put you in here," I demand, wrapping a fist around the bars. He stars at me with bleary eyes, and I back away, fuming. "I'll go get some people, we will break you out."

"No," Hodge wheezes, holding out a hand. I stare at him, and he coughs, shuddering beneath his quilt. "No, it's quite alright," he continues when the spell has passed. "The boar savaged my leg pretty badly. I must be locked up until they can be sure that I will not turn."

"They did this to you on purpose?" I came back, gripping the bars again, peering at him closely. "And you let them? I don't understand, how is your leg?""It's been looked after as well as is expected," Hodge replied, shrugging. "In the morning, someone will come and re-bandage it. It's not as bad as it looks, I think I have a good chance of pulling through this one."

I look at his hollow, sweaty face, the pain glazing his eyes and shake my head. "I still don't understand why they have put you in this cage. Why did they do that? I'd be screaming and tearing the walls down, trying to get out."

"I want to be in here," Hodge insists. "What if I die in the house and Turn before anyone notices? What if I kill somebody? No." he leans back, drawing his blanket closer around himself. "This is necessary. I'm not going to put anyone at danger here in this cage, and the family is safe. That's all I care about."

"But you're not bitten, are you?"

"No," Hodge replies wearily.

"So its fine, you're not going to Turn." I exclaim, still not understanding why he things he is a danger to the people around him when there is no way that he will turn into a walker, not if he hasn't been bitten.

Hodge sighs, and in that moment I can see that he bags under his eyes are so dark that his face look like a skeleton, he looks as if he is dead already. "Whether I have been bitten or not does not matter, if this infection on my leg kills me, I will Turn." I give him a confused look, "oh you don't know. How interesting, I would have thought Valentine would have told you.""Told me what?" I demand.

Hodge meets my gaze, "if you die, you Turn. It doesn't matter how you die; whether it be because of disease, injury, or because of a bite, if and when you die, you will Turn."

Slowly, I sink to the floor. It's over, for all of us; this is the end of the world. Before I was holding on to the hope that maybe we could kill them, maybe we would find a way to wipe them all out. But now I have realised that the problem isn't them, it's us. All of us are infected. Every single human being. If we die, the disease wakes up and takes over, and the dead walk.

I feel disgusted. Somewhere in my body, in my blood, is a dormant walker just waiting to be let free. "Why did Valentine not tell us this? If he already knew like you said."

"There are a lot of things that Valentine hasn't told you." Hodge begins to cough, and each one sounds worse than the last. "He has always had secrets that man."

"Do you know him?" I ask, confused at Hodges familiarity with our groups leader.

"Better than most."

I am about to inquire as to how Hodge knows Valentine when his body is engulfed by an explosion of lung rattling coughs. Each paroxysm more violent than the last, and I can see a trail of red liquid oozing from the left side of his mouth. His face is the very picture of pain; his eyes filled with fear, his skin a pasty white.

He is going to die. Soon.

"What can I do?" I ask frantically, and to my ears my voice sounds panicked and so much louder than I expected in the otherwise quiet night. Hodges only answer is yet another outburst, twice as awful as the last. Blood spews from his mouth and splatters my shoes. I watch as a droplet, barely the size of a pea, rolls down to the ground, leaving a trail of red behind it like a bloody tear stain. How could they leave this man in the cold like this? A man so terrified, so alone, so close to his own death and yet so completely abandoned by people he called family. Left to die in a cage behind the woodshed. If these people could do something so heartless to one of their own, what would they be willing to do to us?

"I'm going to get help." Hodge has stopped coughing but makes no attempt to acknowledge me. He is slumped in his blanket faintly shivering, his head against the bars and I fear that help will come too late for him.

I take one last look at his expressionless face and head toward the closest light; the barn.The barn is the most imposing building in the compound, easily 15 feet tall it looks down on us all as if we are mere ants. It also seems the least decrepit despite its basic wooden frame. The red wood of its walls are only faintly peeling and the old fashioned thatched roof still slops proudly as if it has been newly done.

The main feature of the building, its massive wooden door, is swung partially open- just enough for me to make out raised voices. Despite my hurry, something in their tones ring with danger and I slow as I approach, hoping to distinguish the owners of the voices.

"… and what of the circle now Valentine?" I hear a women's voice, clear and full of rage, and stop just outside of the door, not daring to enter. "You think that because it was dispatched people have forgotten? You are foolish." She spits out the word foolish as if it is poison aimed at his heart. "We know what you did; what you did to your poor children… your wife?!"

I know that I am intruding on something major and that I should stop listening but I can't, I am riveted to the spot. My body is leaning towards the open gate, begging me to let it closer, let it discover the mystery of the conversation behind the door.

"Do not bring my family into this," I hear Valentines voice. His order is cool and icy, scarily calm in comparison to the woman's (which I now know belongs to Amatis).

"Family." She laughs, "What do you know of family?" Valentine does not reply so she continues. "You're wife left you for another man; your daughter doesn't know who you are; and your son… he is barely even human."

I stand and wait for a reply but there is none. Scared that I might miss some of the conversation I edge closer to the door and peer around the edge. Valentine has his back to me, his hands are clasped behind his back in an old fashioned gesture, his outfit is immaculately clean, his hair swept back to perfection. To the casual observer he looks cool, passive but I can see the tension in his shoulders and the bulging vein in his neck. His fury is a fist of ice that at any moment will slam into Amatis and break her into a million tiny pieces. I find that I am scared for her and that thought isboth shocking and terrifying because she is a woman who would leave one of her own to die in the cold, and he is supposed to be my leader, someone I trust. And yet still I find myself worried for her life and I realise that I truly don't know anyone around me. I have emerged myself into a broken community led by a man who has more secrets than I have regrets. Valentine can't be trusted, none of the group can if they have followed him so long. I come to the realisation that perhaps I am better off on my own.

"I sacrificed them for the good of the human race." He replies. His words cause a shiver to run down my spine.

"You did no such thing." Amatis cries. "The circle went too far and now the world has to pay the price." I can see Amatis' face as she says this and it is engulfed in regret. Her hands are shaking and I can tell that she is a little frightened, but her passionate tone of voice suggests that she will keep going, she is not going to back down. There is a silence for a few seconds and I watch as Amatis shakes her head despairingly, her greying hair covering her face like a veil. The way that she is pleading with him even after he has so clearly done something irreversible confuses me and I don't understand why she cares so much. I need to know what he has done.

"Jace should know Valentine. As should the girl." Amatis sighs and her voice lowers, and so I edge even closer so as to make sure I catch her words. My head is practically in the barn now and one glance in my direction could give me away but I am not thinking about consequence, my mind is occupied by her last words. What should Jace know? Who is the girl? My mind is reeling so much by the most recent piece of information that I almost miss Valentines hand twitch. His fingers are curling down his lower back and behind his tee-shirt to something hidden there.

"She looks so much like her mother." Amatis says softly and her eyes are cast downward in despair as a single tear creeps down her cheek. Valentine moves faster than a snake. His right hand, which had been underneath his tee-shirt, snaps out and in it I can see the silver gleam of a knife. He lunges forward as I almost equally as quick step out from behind the door and unsheathe my sword. My blade doubles his in length but he is much closer to his victim and I can already see that I acted too late.

I stumble forward, my legs wobbly due to standing still so long in anticipation. Valentine must have heard me as his head whips around in my direction. I see a flicker of recognition and surprise in his eyes before he turns back around and drives the blade straight into Amatis' stomach. I hear the squelch as the knife slips into her gut and she cries out, stumbling backwards and falling into a distraught heap on the dirty barn floor. Slowly valentine spins on his heels to greet me. His eyes flicker like a snakes and in them I see the phantom of deranged glee, telling me that not only did he go for the kill, he also enjoyed it.

I get into a fighting stance; my legs apart, my weight shifted between them equally, my shoulders back, and my katana clutched in front of me. When I fight my blade becomes more than just a sword, it becomes an extension of my arm. With it I can kill and slice just as naturally as waving or any other humane act that the average person would require the use of their arm for.

Valentine stands in front of me with an aura of composure that just manages to enrage me even more. His attire is unruffled and ordinary- the only hint that he just stabbed someone is the bloodied blade in his left hand. He nods at me and the formal gesture is so ridiculous that it would have been funny in other circumstances."I'm sorry you had to see that Clary," Valentine says to me, smoothing down his shirt with his free hand. When he looks back up at me I see that his face is the picture of mock sincerity that makes me wonder if anything he does is genuine and not just put up for show. "I'm afraid me and my friend Amatis had a little argument."

"Little argument?" I reply boldly, "you stabbed the woman! Generally I'd describe that as more than a 'little argument'" I shoot him my dirtiest look and ready myself mentally for the inevitable fight that is about to happen.

"She was right you know." He looks me directly in the eye and I am taken aback by the ferocity in which he holds my gaze. "You really do look like your mother."

His comment knocks me completely off my guard and I take a step back. Valentine knew my mother? Why didn't he tell me before? The image of my beautiful mother crashes into me like a wave and her smell surrounds me. My mother really was gorgeous, she was tall and slim. The most elegant woman I had ever met- she used to glide instead of walk, I thought. And her long, red hair was always perfectly straight and thick- not like my bright burning red, but more like an auburn colour, the colour of roses. How could someone as beautiful as my mother- inside and out- have known someone as evil as the man standing in front of me now.

"How do yo-?" I am about to ask when I am interrupted by a noise behind me. A low groan that sends an icy dagger into my soul. I spin slowly around, my sword raised, and greet the monster in front of me- the monster behind me will have to wait.

I am expecting the thrill and seduction of the fight to wash over me as I greet the walker, but I am filled only with a sensation of icy shock as I look into the face of my prey. The hollow eyes of what used to be Hodge stare blankly back at me. I feel sick. I have failed him. I left him to turn, on his own, in a locked cage. I broke my promise to him and I don't even know if he heard me utter it but the fact that I didn't bring help in time for him makes me feel ill. Snakes slither in my stomach and rise up through my throat, chocking me. A croaked sob escapes my lips as he starts to walk towards me.

"Hodge, I am s- so sorry." I manage to say as a sob breaks free of my body. I taste the salt of my tears. "I wasn't there for you, I forgot about you." I say stepping towards him. "You didn't deserve a fate like that." I raise my sword. "I wanted to save you, be the hero you needed." I bring the edge of my blade down on his neck and his blood explodes from his body. "But I don't think heroes exist anymore."


	15. Chapter 15

**_Authors note: hello again fellow internet users, I have returned with the next chapter! *cheers*_**

**_Anyways hope everyone enjoys and thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed favourited etc you are amaazing and i am so outrageously flattered by all of your fabulous support. _**

**_Much love to you all, I shall update soon xx_**

I feel nothing as the body of my victim crumples to the floor. Heroism is a policy that vacated this world a long time ago, replaced only by a need for survival. People don't do selfless or 'nice' things anymore. Nothing is done purely for the good of others as all is polluted by the threat of humanity's imminent destruction. This fear lingers on the edge of all our deepest nightmares. It makes us run faster, hit harder, jump higher; the need for survival has turned us into a more primitive race than we previously liked to believe we were.

Although perhaps we have always been this savage? Maybe we, as a race, attempted and pretended to adopt an air of sophistication that made us better than the other inhabitants on the planet, but really all it was was a pretence. And underneath all of our attempted niceties, and posh dinner parties, I think we knew that there was an animal lurking inside our very souls. Animalistic survival instincts make us meaner, harder, but they also keep us alive. So perhaps to live in this world ditching the heroic pretence and adopting the rawer, harder policies of survival is what I need to do.

Because I don't think I can cope with trying to save so many people when I'm struggling to save even myself. For as the world around us gets darker, we must get darker still.

I spin around and raise my blade in anticipation of killing Valentine if I have to, only to realise that he has disappeared. He must have snuck off while I was dealing with the walker problem. "What a coward, to have run away when I had my back turned," I think.

I replace my sword back into its sheath at my back and walk towards the desolate form that whimpers on the ground before me. Amatis Is clutching her stomach, and her fingers are red and slick with her own blood, which continues to spew from her wound. Her ashen face is suspended in a look of shock; her eyes are wide and watering, her mouth half open, and her skin a pasty white. She does not move other than the erratic rise and fall of her chest as she gasps in air like a fish out of water.

I kneel next to her and hold her bloodied hand, pulling her head into my lap. "Tell... Tell Luke…" she gurgles painfully.

"Hush now," I whisper gently, putting my face close to her ear so she does not miss my words. "Don't try to speak, it will only make it worse." She seems displeased by this and vaguely shakes her head at me.

"Foolish… tell Luke… he needs to find… the promised…" she gurgles out the last sentence and a collection of foamy blood and saliva falls down her chin. She has stopped breathing.

"The promised what? The promised what?!" I scream at her, shaking her forcefully in frustration. "The promise land? Is that it? Because that's not a real place you crazy old lady!" my tears start spilling down my cheeks now and I watch as they splatter and leave stained patterns on Amatis' white face. "The promised land can't be a real place, can it?" I shake my head and sink back on to my heels, placing Amatis' head back on to the ground. She is the second person today that I have neglected to save. The second person in one day. I feel disgusted and ashamed of myself and sit cross-legged on the cold ground next to the body as these emotions begin to swallow me whole. I feel them spreading from my heart like roots, the hatred and fear and disappointment webbing out down my arms, legs, wrapping around my chest and my brain.

My misery is interrupted by a sharp scream that makes me jump to my feet. Old Martha, the cook that apparently fancies Jace, is staring at me. Her left hand is over her mouth in an expression of horror as she points at me and the body with her right. Her eyes flick from Amatis to me, to the blood on my hands and face. She begins to scream again, and I rush over to quiet her.

"Shut up," I whisper forcefully, "walkers will come." She does not react to me other than to back away towards the door, terrified eyes transfixed on my bloodied visage.

"Help! Help!" she screams, even louder than before. "Murderer murderer!" she screeches the accusation at me and with terrible clarity I understand her mistake. She thinks that I have killed Amatis.

I begin to panic as I realise what this could mean if more people come to the barn. There are strong men and women who live here, and if they think I have killed their leader, they are not going to be merciful.

"No no it wasn't me I swear!" I exclaim reaching out to Martha with my hands. She stares at the red that soaks my arms and starts screaming even louder. I know that I have just spooked her even more and that the evident blood on my hands has confirmed her suspicions. She is in such a state of hysterical panic that I know there can be no reasoning with her, anything I say can only panic her more than I already have.

The sound of voices can be heard now, and although they are too far away to distinguish individual people, I can hear that a large group of them must be headed this way in response to Martha's calls. Despite not being able to see them, I can imagine the looks of steely determination on their faces as they run towards me, expecting to find one of their own in trouble. But at the moment what they will find is me, covered in blood, and the dead body of their leader. I can understand why I would be the prime suspect, especially since the course of death was a blade of some sort and everyone knows I make sure to carry my sword with me at all times. Maybe if I show them that my katana does not have any blood on it then they will believe that I was not responsible. But then I look to the ground and see the decapitated form of Hodge and realise that since I used my sword to kill him then his blood will covering my blade. He had not been dead long enough for his walker blood to be discoloured so the mob would not be able to tell the difference.

And I am not wrong to describe them as a mob. The pounding of feet is so loud now that I know there must be about 15 angry men and women who will be even angrier when they see what has happened. Some of these people didn't trust me anyway, some of them I had grown to like, but when put through the trauma of surprising events that both scare and anger someone, they do things out of character and it won't matter who likes me or not. If the mob thinks I am guilty, I might not leave this barn alive. That thought reminds me of the rifles that the people on patrol always carry around and I make my decision. There is only one thing I can do, the thing I do best. I run away.

I run through the back of the barn just as the first people enter through the front doors, Martha's screaming is still apparent but quieter so I can hear their quizzical tone of voices. I don't stop to listen to what they say.

My only step forward has to be to get out of the compound, but before I do that I am going to have to get some supplies. From behind the barn I can just see the side door which leads into the kitchen and so I sprint towards it, being as quiet as I can. Luckily, the door is unlocked and so I step inside the dark room and close it silently behind me. The kitchen is a narrow but long room filled to bust with random bits of furniture. To my right is a sink with running water where the clothes are manually washed up by whoever's shift it is. Fortunately whoever's shift it is tonight is currently else were and so there are a bunch of clothes in a heap next to the sink. I creep towards them and see a light brown backpack that I think I recognise but cannot place who it belongs to and snatch it up hurriedly; I can hear people coming out of the barn. Next I head over to the cupboards and fling them open. It is filled with cans and I marvel at the amount of goods they have. This camp won't go starving for at least a year with this amount of canned goods- and that's not even including the chickens and other livestock they keep here.

I feel guilty for taking food from them but I know that I need it, so I take two cans of baked beans and an extra can of beef ravioli and place them into the backpack. Then I move over to the drinking tap and fill a water bottle up with water and take a handful of purifying tablets. I can feel panic knotting in my stomach as I hear people moving towards the kitchen from outside, so flinging the bag onto my back I cautiously go through the kitchen and into the corridor beyond.

The corridors are deserted as I make my way upstairs and into my room. I grab the clothes folded on my bed and take all off the weapons lying around and put them in my boots and the pocket of my jacket. I place a handheld gun that I recognise as a Glock into the back of my trousers. I am about to exit when I hear a voice outside my room and freeze.

"No she wouldn't do that," Jace says, his voice animated.

"I'm not saying she would," Alec says with a sigh, "I'm just saying that we need to find her."

"Well that much is obvious."

Jace is directly outside my door and I panic, praying that he doesn't come in. I search around my room for a place to hide and see nothing but the old wardrobe. Opening its door I climb in just as someone turns the door handle and steps inside. Jace is silhouetted by the golden lights of the corridor behind him, and from the angle that I am looking from through the keyhole, he looks like an avenging angel.

"Look, all her stuff has gone." Alec says, moving towards my bed. "Her clothes, her weapons. It looks to me as if she's grabbed her stuff and left already."

"But I don't understand, if she didn't do it, why didn't she come and say good bye? Why did she just leave?" Jace says, and although his voice sounds bored I can detect the underlying notes of worry and maybe even pain. I want to go to him but I know that I mustn't. It'll be easier for him to think I've left him behind because I don't care about him. Rather than because I care too much about him. I see now that my leaving here is the only thing I can do, I have to leave alone.

"Maybe she did do it." Alec says, "And so she planned all this and ran away. Or maybe she had nothing to do with Amatis and just happened to leave on the same night; it's not like Martha is particularly reliable. But it doesn't look like she's here anymore so we will probably never find out. Come on lets go." Alec leaves the room without looking back at Jace and walks down the hallway. I hear his footsteps as he strolls away.

Jace looks around the room again, walks over to my bed and sighs. He then goes to the window facing the door and looks out of it wistfully. I can't see his face through the key hole but I can see his fists clenched tightly at his side, the knuckles turning white. He is so close to the wardrobe that I dare not breathe. I pull away from the keyhole and slink into the corner, hugging my knees to my chest and listen. I can hear his breaths- solid and steady, but muffled a little by the wood between us. Eventually, he straightens up and I hear him walk to the middle of my room, sigh again, and then leave. I stay hidden in the closet until I can no longer hear him down the hall.

I step out of my hiding place and zip up my jacket. Opening the window, I slip out and shimmy down the ivy which clings to the wall, pulling my body in tight in case anyone is looking. When I hit the ground I do so silently- I cannot make any noise. The wall that separates this community and the outside world stands tall about 30 metres in front of me. I will never be able to climb it and the only way out is through the massive gates that are manned at all times. The only way that I can get out has got to be through that gate, but how the hell can I get it to open? Thinking back to when Jace and I were on guard duty, I think I remember seeing that the gate worked on some sort of pulley system. There was an old iron handle that twisted anti-clockwise puling on a chain which then opened the door. If only I can distract the guards I should be able to open it easily.

I sprint straight forward and position myself so that my back is pressed against the cold, hard material of the wall. I sneak along it, watching for people but the only light that I can see is coming from the barn which is on my far left and way too far away for anyone to see me when it is this dark. I move swiftly until I reach the iron bars that make a ladder, leading up to the guards posts. I climb up as silently as possible, one arm pulling me up, the other holding the handle of a knife. When I am high enough so that my head can see onto the platform, I look both ways and check for guards but immediately shrink back down. To the right, blocking my path is a man with a rifle, slouched against the wall. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest so loud that I'm surprised that the whole community doesn't hear it. I take a few deep breathes and try to relax. If he had seen me he would have alerted the others by now so he either wasn't looking or is asleep. I pray for the second of the two options and stick my head over again. After a minute of the man not moving, I crawl onto the platform and quietly creep towards him, making sure to crouch down.

He must be asleep, or dead. But I don't think about the possibility of the second and instead continue my journey: sneaking towards the end of the strip of walkway- towards the lever. It is in sight of me now and I begin to trot towards it, raising my speed but making sure to stay alert and light footed. Everything is going smoothly, just a few more steps and I'm there. "Almost there," I mutter to myself. "Almost there."

My fingers circle the cold, metal lever and I smile with relief. I begin to turn the spherical switch towards me and I hear the soft thunk of the great wooden doors begin to swing open below.

"I'm afraid I can't let ya do that." A man's voice says behind me. Slowly, I swivel round and face him. It's the guard I had passed before- the one who is DEFINITLEY not sleeping. I mentally kick myself for being so naïve. "You see there are some people who are very keen to get their 'ands on you." I faintly recognize the man but not enough to name him. I size him up immediately. He isn't particularly big, maybe 5"8, and his round face is red and blotchy. The man is about forty years old, with greying hair and a receding hair line, he looks like he has never done a spot of hard work in his life. I know that if I need to, I could fight him. My eyes flicker to my right side and over the wall- it would be a long way to fall if somebody were to get pushed.

"Now what could a pretty lil' thang like you have done to piss so many people off?" he crowed, taking a giant step towards me and licking his bottom lip slightly. "See I was sent up here t'watch out for ya, and that's got me a wandering what naughty thangs you have been up to." He steps towards me again and is so close to me that I can see the sweat hanging on his fat upper lip. He is grotesque.

"Stay away from me." I say, looking at him venomously. The knife that I still hold in my hand is behind my back and if he tries something then I will use it. I see a flicker of white out on the edge of my vision and my head snaps to the side left to see what it was. The man in front of me takes my distraction as an opportunity to leap and he grabs my waist, pinning my arms to my sides with his giant clammy hands. The shock of his strike makes me release my grip and the knife falls to the floor with a clatter of metal. The man comes so close to me that he is practically pressing himself against me and he whispers in my ear: "they said to me that I 'ad to 'and you over, but they didn't say I couldn't 'ave a little fun first." His laugh in my face is moist and putrid. I turn my head defiantly.

There is a hard thud and he releases me with a gasp stumbling backwards. I scurry for my knife and hold it out in front of me ready to attack to see that there is no need; the man is already on the floor, his head bleeding, knocked unconscious. I see a bloodied rock by the side of his head and run to look over the side of the railing onto the compound but there is no one there.

Puzzled but relieved regardless I turn back to the wheel and turn it some more until I can see the door open enough for me to get through. I rush back down the ladder and along the wall and get to the door. There is a gap between the doors that is just large enough for me to get through, and I am about to shimmy on through when I hear a voice calling my name. I turn back and see a golden haired boy running towards me. I don't allow myself to think about how beautiful he looks, or how much it is going to hurt to leave him and all the others behind. I draw in a shaky breath, wrench my eyes away from his approaching form and slither through the doors, pushing them shut behind me.

As I run away from there and into the woods, the sun begins to rise and I feel my heart break just a little bit.


End file.
